HE  SILENT  BARKER 


W.  A  C  " 


THE   SILENT   BARRIER 


UNIV.  0F  CALIF.  LIBRARY.  LOS  ANGELES 


'Spare  me  one  moment,  Miss  Wynton,"  he  said. 


Frontispiece 


BY 

LOUIS  TRACY 

AUTHOR  OF 

CYNTHIA'S  CHAUFFEUR.  A  SON  OF  THE 
IMMORTALS.  THE   WINGS  OF  THE  MORNING,   ETC. 


ILLUSTRATIONS  BY 

J.  V.  McFALL 

Page  decorations  by  A.  W.   PARSONS  from 
photographs  by  THE  ENGADINE  PRESS 


NEW    YORK 

GROSSET    &    DUNLAP 

PUBLISHERS 


COPYRIGHT,  1908, 1911,  BY 
EDWARD    J.    CLODE 


Entered  at  Stationers'  Hall 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.     THE  WISH  .         .         .         .         .1 

II.     THE  FULFILLMENT  OF  THE  WISH         .     19 

III.     WHEREIN  Two  PEOPLE  BECOME  BET- 
TER ACQUAINTED     .         .         .         .41 

IV.  How  HELEN   CAME  TO   MALOJA         .     64 

V.  AN  INTERLUDE   .  •         .         .         .84 

VI.  THE  BATTLEFIELD  .         .         .         .  103 

VII.  SOME  SKIRMISHING  ....  122 

VIII.  SHADOWS 144 

IX.  "ETTA'S  FATHER"  .         .         .         .167 

X.  ON   THE   GLACIER  .         .         .         .189 

XI.     WHEREIN    HELEN    LIVES    A    CROWDED 

HOUR      .         .         .         .         .         .212 

XII.     THE   ALLIES 232 

XIII.  THE    COMPACT    .         .         .         .         .253 

XIV.  WHEREIN   MILLICENT  ARMS   FOR  THE 

FRAY       .         .         .         ....  275 

XV.     A    COWARD'S    VICTORY         .         .         .298 

XVI.     SPENCER  EXPLAINS     .         .  .  321 

XVII.     THE  SETTLEMENT  ,         »         .337 


Ich  muss — Das  ist  die  Schrank,  in  welcher  mich  die  Welt 
Von  einer,  die  Natur  von  andrer  Seite  halt 

Fa.  RUCKEBT:  Die  Weisheit  de»  Brahmenen. 

[I  must — That  is  the  Barrier  within  which  I  am  pent  by 
the  World  on  the  one  hand  and  Nature  on  the  other.] 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 


CHAPTER  I 


M 


THE    WISH 

AIL  in?" 

"Yes,     sir;     just     arrived.       What 
name?  " 
"Charles  K.  Spencer." 

The  letter  clerk  seized  a  batch  of  correspond- 
ence and  sorted  it  with  nimble  fingers.  The 
form  of  the  question  told  him  that  Spencer  was 
interested  in  letters  stamped  for  the  greater  part 
with  bland  presentments  of  bygone  Presidents  of 
the  United  States.  In  any  event,  he  would  have 
known,  by  long  experience  of  the  type,  that  the 
well  dressed,  straight  limbed,  strong  faced  young 
man  on  the  other  side  of  the  counter  was  an 
American.  He  withdrew  four  missives  from  the  bun- 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

die.  His  quick  eyes  saw  that  three  bore  the  Denver 
postmark,  and  the  fourth  hailed  from  Leadville. 

"  That  is  all  at  present,  sir,"  he  said.  "  Would 
you  like  your  mail  sent  to  your  room  in  future, 
or  shall  I  keep  it  here?" 

"  Right  here,  please,  in  No.  20  slot.  I  could 
receive  a  reply  by  cable  while  I  was  going  and 
coming  along  my  corridor." 

The  clerk  smiled  deferentially.  He  appreciated 
not  only  the  length  of  the  corridor,  but  the  price 
paid  by  the  tenant  of  a  second  floor  suite  over- 
looking the  river. 

"  Very  well,  sir,"  he  said,  glancing  again  at 
Spencer,  "  I  will  attend  to  it ; "  and  he  took  a 
mental  portrait  of  the  man  who  could  afford  to 
hire  apartments  that  ranked  among  the  most 
expensive  in  the  hotel.  Obviously,  the  American 
was  a  recent  arrival.  His  suite  had  been  vacated 
by  a  Frankfort  banker  only  three  days  earlier, 
and  this  was  the  first  time  he  had  asked  for 
letters.  Even  the  disillusioned  official  was  amused 
by  the  difference  between  the  two  latest  occupants 
of  No.  20, — Herr  Bamberger,  a  tub  of  a  man, 
bald  headed  and  bespectacled,  and  this  alert,  sinewy 
youngster,  with  the  cleancut  features  of  a  Greek 
statue,  and  the  brilliant,  deep  set,  earnest  eyes  of 
one  to  whom  thought  and  action  were  alike  familiar. 

Spencer,  fully  aware  that  he  was  posing  for  a 
necessary  picture,  examined  the  dates  on  his  letters, 
nipped  the  end  off  a  green  cigar,  helped  himself 


THE  WISH 

to  a  match  from  a  box  tendered  by  a  watchful 
boy,  crossed  the  entrance  hall,  and  descended  a 
few  steps  leading  to  the  inner  foyer  and  restaurant. 
At  the  foot  of  the  stairs  he  looked  about  for  a 
quiet  corner.  The  luncheon  hour  was  almost  ended. 
Groups  of  smokers  and  coffee  drinkers  were  scat- 
tered throughout  the  larger  room,  which  widened 
out  below  a  second  short  flight  of  carpeted  steps. 
The  smaller  anteroom  in  which  he  stood  was  empty, 
save  for  a  few  people  passing  that  way  from  the 
restaurant,  and  he  decided  that  a  nook  near  a  palm 
shaded  balcony  offered  the  retreat  he  sought. 

He  little  dreamed  that  he  was  choosing  the 
starting  point  of  the  most  thrilling  adventure  in 
a  life  already  adventurous;  that  the  soft  carpet 
of  the  Embankment  Hotel  might  waft  him  to 
scenes  not  within  the  common  scope.  That  is  ever 
the  way  of  true  romance.  Your  knight  errant  may 
wander  in  the  forest  for  a  day  or  a  year, — he 
never  knows  the  moment  when  the  enchanted  glade 
shall  open  before  his  eyes;  nay,  he  scarce  has  seen 
the  weeping  maiden  bound  to  a  tree  ere  he  is  called 
in  to  couch  his  lance  and  ride  a-tilt  at  the  fire  breath- 
ing dragon.  It  was  so  when  men  and  maids  dwelt  in 
a  young  world;  it  is  so  now;  and  it  will  be  so  till 
the  crack  of  doom.  Manners  may  change,  and  cos- 
tume; but  hearts  filled  with  the  wine  of  life  are  not 
to  be  altered.  They  are  fashioned  that  way,  and  the 
world  does  not  vary,  else  Eve  might  regain  Paradise, 
and  all  the  fret  and  fume  have  an  end. 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

Charles  K.  Spencer,  then,  would  certainly  have 
been  the  most  astonished,  though  perhaps  the  most 
self  possessed,  man  in  London  had  some  guardian 
sprite  whispered  low  in  his  ear  what  strange  hazard 
lay  in  his  choice  of  a  chair.  If  such  whisper  were 
vouchsafed  to  him  he  paid  no  heed.  Perhaps  his 
occupancy  of  that  particular  corner  was  preordained. 
It  was  inviting,  secluded,  an  upholstered  backwash 
in  the  stream  of  fashion;  so  he  sat  there,  nearly 
stunned  a  waiter  by  asking  for  a  glass  of  water, 
and  composed  himself  to  read  his  letters. 

The  waiter  hesitated.  He  was  a  Frenchman,  and 
feared  he  had  not  heard  aright. 

"  What  sort  of  water,  sir,"  he  asked, — "  Vichy, 
St.  Galmier,  Apollinaris  ?  " 

Spencer  looked  up.  He  thought  the  man  had  gone. 
"  No,  none  of  those,"  he  said.  "  Just  plain,  un- 
emotional water, — eau  naturelle, — straight  from  the 
pipe, — the  microbe  laden  fluid  that  runs  off  London 
tiles  most  days.  I  haven't  been  outside  the  hotel 
during  the  last  hour;  but  if  you  happen  to  pass  the 
door  I  guess  you'll  see  the  kind  of  essence  I  mean 
dripping  off  umbrellas.  If  you  don't  keep  it  in  the 
house,  try  to  borrow  a  policeman's  cape  and  shoot  a 
quart  into  a  decanter." 

The  quelled  waiter  hurried  away  and  brought  a 
carafe.  Spencer  professed  to  be  so  pleased  with  his 
rare  intelligence  that  he  gave  him  a  shilling.  Then 
he  opened  the  envelop  with  the  Leadville  postmark. 
It  contained  a  draft  for  205  pounds,  15  shillings, 


THE  WISH 

11  pence,  and  the  accompanying  letter  from  a  firm 
of  solicitors  showed  that  the  remittance  of  a  thou- 
sand dollars  was  the  moiety  of  the  proceeds  of  a 
clean-up  on  certain  tailings  taken  over  by  the  pur- 
chasers of  the  Battle  Mountain  tunnel.  The  sum  was 
not  a  large  one;  but  it  seemed  to  give  its  recipient 
such  satisfaction  that  the  movement  of  chairs  on  the 
floor  of  the  big  room  just  beneath  failed  to  draw  his 
attention  from  the  lawyer's  statement. 

A  woman's  languid,  well  bred  voice  broke  in  on 
this  apparently  pleasant  reverie. 

"  Shall  we  sit  here,  Helen?  " 

"  Anywhere  you  like,  dear.  It  is  all  the  same  to 
me.  Thanks  to  you,  I  am  passing  an  afternoon  in 
wonderland.  I  find  my  surroundings  so  novel  and 
entertaining  that  I  should  still  be  excited  if  you  were 
to  put  me  in  the  refrigerator." 

The  eager  vivacity  of  the  second  speaker — the  note 
of  undiluted  and  almost  childlike  glee  with  which  she 
acknowledged  that  a  visit  to  a  luxurious  hotel  was  a 
red  letter  day  in  her  life — caused  the  man  to  glance 
at  the  two  young  women  who  had  unconsciously  dis- 
turbed him.  Evidently,  they  had  just  risen  from 
luncheon  in  the  restaurant,  and  meant  to  dispose 
themselves  for  a  chat.  It  was  equally  clear  that  each 
word  they  uttered  in  an  ordinary  conversational  tone 
must  be  audible  to  him.  They  were  appropriating 
chairs  which  would  place  the  plumes  of  their  hats 
within  a  few  inches  of  his  feet.  When  seated,  their 
faces  would  be  hidden  from  him,  save  for  a  possible 

5 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

glimpse  of  a  profile  as  one  or  other  turned  toward  her 
companion.  But  for  a  few  seconds  he  had  a  good 
view  of  both,  and  he  was  young  enough  to  find  the 
scrutiny  to  his  liking. 

At  the  first  glance,  the  girl  who  was  acting  as 
hostess  might  be  deemed  the  more  attractive  of  the 
pair.  She  was  tall,  slender,  charmingly  dressed,  and 
carried  herself  with  an  assured  elegance  that  hinted 
of  the  stage.  Spencer  caught  a  glint  of  corn  flower 
blue  eyes  beneath  long  lashes,  and  a  woman  would 
have  deduced  from  their  color  the  correct  explanation 
of  a  blue  sunshade,  a  blue  straw  hat,  and  a  light  cape 
of  Myosotis  blue  silk  that  fell  from  shapely  shoulders 
over  a  white  lace  gown. 

The  other  girl, — she  who  answered  to  the  name  of 
Helen, — though  nearly  as  tall  and  quite  as  graceful, 
was  robed  so  simply  in  muslin  that  she  might  have 
provided  an  intentional  contrast.  In  the  man's  es- 
teem she  lost  nothing  thereby.  He  appraised  her  by 
the  fine  contour  of  her  oval  face,  the  wealth  of  glossy 
brown  hair  that  clustered  under  her  hat,  and  the 
gleam  of  white  teeth  between  lips  of  healthy  redness. 
Again,  had  he  looked  through  a  woman's  eyes,  he 
would  have  seen  how  the  difference  between  Bond-st. 
and  Kilburn  as  shopping  centers  might  be  sharply 
accentuated.  But  that  distinction  did  not  trouble 
him.  Beneath  a  cold  exterior  he  had  an  artist's 
soul,  and  "  Helen  "  met  an  ideal. 

"  Pretty  as  a  peach !  "  he  said  to  himself,  and  he 
continued  to  gaze  at  her.  Indeed,  for  an  instant  he 

6 


THE  WISH 

forgot  himself,  and  it  was  not  until  she  spoke  again 
that  he  realized  how  utterly  oblivious  were  both  girls 
of  his  nearness. 

"  I  suppose  everybody  who  comes  here  is  very 
rich,"  was  her  rather  awe-stricken  comment. 

Her  companion  laughed.  "  How  nice  of  you  to 
put  it  that  way!  It  makes  me  feel  quite  importscnt. 
I  lunch  or  dine  or  sup  here  often,  and  the  direct 
inference  is  that  I  am  rolling  in  wealth." 

"  Well,  dear,  you  earn  a  great  deal  of  money " 

"  I  get  twenty  pounds  a  week,  and  this  frock  I  am 
wearing  cost  twenty-five.  Really,  Helen,  you  are  the 
sweetest  little  goose  I  ever  met.  You  live  in  London, 
but  are  not  of  it.  You  haven't  grasped  the  first 
principle  of  social  existence.  If  I  dressed  within  my 
means,  and  never  spent  a  sovereign  until  it  was  in 
my  purse,  I  should  not  even  earn  the  sovereign.  I 
simply  must  mix  with  this  crowd  whether  I  can 
afford  it  or  not." 

"  But  surely  you  are  paid  for  your  art,  not  as  a 
mannikin.  You  are  almost  in  the  front  rank  of 
musical  comedy.  I  have  seen  you  occasionally  at 
the  theater,  and  I  thought  you  were  the  best  dancer 
in  the  company." 

"  What  about  my  singing?  " 

"  You  have  a  very  agreeable  and  well  trained 
voice." 

"  I'm  afraid  you  are  incorrigible.  You  ought  to 
have  said  that  I  sang  better  than  I  danced,  and  the 
fib  would  have  pleased  me  immensely ;  we  women  like 

7 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

to  hear  ourselves  praised  for  accomplishments  we 
don't  possess.  No,  my  dear,  rule  art  out  of  the  cast 
and  substitute  advertisement.  Did  you  notice  a 
dowdy  creature  who  was  lunching  with  two  men  on 
your  right?  She  wore  a  brown  Tussore  silk  and  a 
turban — well,  she  writes  the  *  Pars  About  People '  in 
*  The  Daily  Journal.'  I'll  bet  you  a  pair  of  gloves 
that  you  will  see  something  like  this  in  to-morrow's 
paper:  *  Lord  Archie  Beaumanoir  entertained  a  party 
of  friends  at  the  Embankment  Hotel  yesterday.  At 
the  next  table  Miss  Millicent  Jaques,  of  the  Welling- 
ton Theater,  was  lunching  with  a  pretty  girl  whom 
I  did  not  know.  Miss  Jaques  wore  an  exquisite,'  etc., 
etc.  Fill  in  full  details  of  my  personal  appearance, 
and  you  have  the  complete  paragraph.  The  public, 
the  stupid,  addle-headed  public,  fatten  on  that  sort 
of  thing,  and  it  keeps  me  going  far  more  effectively 
than  my  feeble  attempts  to  warble  a  couple  of  songs 
wlu'ch  you  could  sing  far  better  if  only  you  made 
up  your  mind  to  come  on  the  stage.  But  there! 
After  such  unwonted  candor  I  must  have  a  smoke. 
You  won't  try  a  cigarette?  Well,  don't  look  so 
shocked.  This  isn't  a  church,  you  know." 

Spencer,  who  had  listened  with  interest  to  Miss 
Jaques's  outspoken  views,  suddenly  awoke  to  the 
fact  that  he  was  playing  the  part  of  an  eavesdropper. 
He  had  all  an  American's  chivalrous  instincts  where 
women  were  concerned,  and  his  first  impulse  was  to 
betake  himself  and  his  letters  to  his  own  room.  Yet, 
when  all  was  said  and  done,  he  was  in  a  hotel;  the 

8 


THE  WISH 

girls  were  strangers,  and  likely  to  remain  so ;  and 
it  was  their  own  affair  if  they  chose  to  indulge  in 
unguarded  confidences.  So  he  compromised  with  his 
scruples  by  pouring  out  a  glass  of  water,  replacing 
the  decanter  on  its  tray  with  some  degree  of  noise. 
Then  he  struck  an  unnecessary  match  and  applied  it 
to  his  cigar  before  opening  the  first  of  the  Denver 
letters. 

As  his  glance  was  momentarily  diverted,  he  did 
not  grasp  the  essential  fact  that  neither  of  the  pair 
was  disturbed  by  his  well  meant  efforts.  Millicent 
Jaques  was  lighting  a  cigarette,  and  this,  to  a 
woman,  is  an  all  absorbing  achievement,  while  her 
friend  was  so  new  to  her  palatial  surroundings 
that  she  had  not  the  least  notion  of  the  existence 
of  another  open  floor  just  above  the  level  of  her 
eyes. 

"  I  don't  know  how  in  the  world  you  manage  to 
exist,"  went  on  the  actress,  tilting  herself  back  in 
her  chair  to  watch  the  smoke  curling  lazily  upward. 
"  What  was  it  you  said  the  other  day  when  we  met? 
You  are  some  sort  of  secretary  and  amanuensis  to  a 
scientist?  Does  that  mean  typewriting?  And  what 
is  the  science?  " 

"  Professor  von  Eulenberg  is  a  well  known  man," 
was  the  quiet  reply.  "  I  type  his  essays  and  reports, 
it  is  true;  but  I  also  assist  in  his  classification  work, 
and  it  is  very  interesting." 

"  What  does  he  classify?  " 

"  Mostly  beetles." 

9 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

"  Oh,  how  horrid !    Do  you  ever  see  any  ?  " 

"  Thousands." 

"  I  should  find  one  enough.  If  it  is  a  fair  question, 
what  does  your  professor  pay  you?" 

"  Thirty  shillings  a  week.  In  his  own  way  he  is 
as  poor  as  I  am." 

"  And  do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  you  can  live  in 
those  nice  rooms  you  took  me  to,  and  dress  decently 
on  that  sum?  " 

"  I  do,  as  a  matter  of  fact ;  but  I  have  a  small 
pension,  and  I  earn  a  little  by  writing  titbits  of 
scientific  gossip  for  '  The  Firefly.'  Herr  von  Eulen- 
berg  helps.  He  translates  interesting  paragraphs 
from  the  foreign  technical  papers,  and  I  jot  them 
down,  and  by  that  means  I  pick  up  sufficient  to  buy 
an  extra  hat  or  wrap,  and  go  to  a  theater  or  a  con- 
cert. But  I  have  to  be  careful,  as  my  employer  is 
absent  each  summer  for  two  months.  He  goes  abroad 
to  hunt  new  specimens,  and  of  course  I  am  not  paid 
then." 

"  Is  he  away  now  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  And  how  do  you  pass  your  time  ?  " 

"  I  write  a  good  deal.  Some  day  I  hope  to  get  a 
story  accepted  by  one  of  the  magazines ;  but  it  is 
so  hard  for  a  beginner  to  find  an  opening." 

"  Yet  when  I  offered  to  give  you  a  start  in  the 
chorus  of  the  best  theater  in  London, — a  thing,  mind 
you,  that  thousands  of  girls  are  aching  for, — you 
refused." 

10 


THE  WISH 

"  I'm  sorry,  Millie  dear ;  but  I  am  not  cut  out  for 
the  stage.  It  does  not  appeal  to  me." 

"  Heigho !  Tastes  differ.  Stick  to  your  beetles, 
then,  and  marry  your  professor." 

Helen  laughed,  with  a  fresh  joyousness  that  was 
good  to  hear.  "  Herr  von  Eulenberg  is  blessed  with 
an  exceedingly  stout  wife  and  five  very  healthy  chil- 
dren already,"  she  cried. 

"  Then  that  settles  it.  You're  mad,  quite  mad ! 
Let  us  talk  of  something  else.  Do  you  ever  have  a 
holiday?  Where  are  you  going  this  year?  I'm  off 
to  Champery  when  the  theater  closes." 

"  Champery, — in  Switzerland,  isn't  it?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Ah,  that  is  the  dream  of  my  life, — to  see  the 
everlasting  snows ;  to  climb  those  grand,  solemn 
mountains;  to  cross  the  great  passes  that  one  reads 
of  in  the  travel  books.  Now  at  last  you  have  made 
me  envious.  Are  you  going  alone?  But  of  course 
that  is  a  foolish  question.  You  intend  to  join  other? 
from  the  theater,  no  doubt?  " 

"  Well — er — something  of  the  sort.  I  fear  my 
enthusiasm  will  not  carry  me  far  on  the  lines  that 
would  appeal  to  you.  I  suppose  you  consider  a 
short  skirt,  strong  boots,  a  Tyrolese  hat,  and  an 
alpenstock  to  be  a  sufficient  rig-out,  whereas  my 
mountaineering  costumes  will  fill  five  large  trunks 
and  three  hat  boxes.  I'm  afraid,  Helen,  we  don't 
run  on  the  same  rails,  as  our  American  cousins  say." 

There  was  a  little  pause.  Millicent's  words,  ap- 
11 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

parently  tossed  lightly  into  the  air  after  a  smoke 
spiral,  had  in  them  a  touch  of  bitterness,  it  might 
be  of  self  analysis.  Her  guest  seemed  to  take 
thought  before  she  answered: 

"  Perhaps  the  divergence  is  mainly  in  environment. 
And  I  have  always  inclined  to  the  more  serious  side 
of  life.  Even  when  we  were  together  in  Brussels " 

"  You  ?  Serious  ?  At  Madam  Berard's  ?  I  like 
that.  Who  was  it  that  kicked  the  plaster  off  the 
dormitory  wall  higher  than  her  head?  Who  put 
pepper  in  Signer  Antonio's  snuff  box?  " 

Spencer  saw  the  outer  waves  of  a  flush  on  Helen's 
cheeks.  "  This  is  exceedingly  interesting,"  he 
thought ;  "  but  I  cannot  even  persuade  myself  that 
I  ought  to  listen  any  longer.  Yet,  if  I  rise  now  and 
walk  away  they  will  know  I  heard  every  word." 

Nevertheless,  he  meant  to  go,  at  the  risk  of  their 
embarrassment;  but  he  waited  for  Helen's  reply. 
She  laughed,  and  the  ripple  of  her  mirth  was  as 
musical  as  her  voice,  whereas  many  women  dowered 
with  pleasantly  modulated  notes  for  ordinary  con- 
versation should  be  careful  never  to  indulge  in  laugh- 
ter, which  is  less  controllable  and  therefore  natural. 

"  That  is  the  worst  of  having  a  past,"  she  said. 
"  Let  me  put  it,  then,  that  entomology  as  a  pursuit 
sternly  represses  frivolousness." 

"  Does  entomology  mean  beetles?  " 

"  My  dear,  if  you  asked  Herr  von  Eulenberg  that 
question  he  would  sate  your  curiosity  with  page  ex- 
tracts from  one  of  his  books.  He  has  written  a  whole 


THE  WISH 

volume  to  prove  that  the  only  true  entoma,  or 
insects,  are  Condylopoda  and  Hexapoda,  which 
means " 

"  Cockroaches !  Good  gracious !  To  think  of 
Helen  Wynton,  who  once  hit  a  Belgian  boy  very  hard 
on  the  nose  for  being  rude,  wasting  her  life  on  such 
rubbish!  And  you  actually  seem  to  thrive  on  it.  I 
do  believe  you  are  far  happier  than  I." 

"  At  present  I  am  envying  you  that  trip  to  Cham- 
pery.  Why  cannot  some  fairy  godmother  call  in 
at  No.  5,  Warburton  Gardens,  to-night  and  wave 
over  my  awed  head  a  wand  that  shall  scatter  sleeping 
car  tickets  and  banknotes  galore,  or  at  any  rate  suffi- 
cient thereof  to  take  me  to  the  Engadine  and  back?  " 

"  Ah,  the  Engadine.  I  am  not  going  there  this 
year,  I  think." 

"  Haven't  you  planned  your  tour  yet?  " 

"  No — that  is,  not  exactly." 

"  Do  you  know,  that  is  one  of  my  greatest 
pleasures.  With  a  last  year's  Continental  Brad- 
shaw  and  a  few  tattered  Baedekers  I  journey  far 
afield.  I  know  the  times,  the  fares,  and  the  stopping 
places  of  all  the  main  routes  from  Calais  and 
Boulogne.  I  could  pass  a  creditable  examination  in 
most  of  the  boat  and  train  services  by  way  of  Ostend, 
Flushing,  and  the  Hook  of  Holland.  I  assure  you, 
Millie,  when  my  ship  does  come  home,  or  the  glitter- 
ing lady  whom  I  have  invoked  deigns  to  visit  my 
lodgings,  I  shall  call  a  cab  for  Charing  Cross  or 
Victoria  with  the  assurance  of  a  seasoned  traveler." 

13 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

For  some  reason,  Miss  Jaques  refused  to  share  her 
friend's  enthusiasm.  "  You  are  easily  pleased,"  she 
said  listlessly.  "  For  my  part,  after  one  shuddering 
glance  at  the  Channel,  I  try  to  deaden  all  sensation 
till  I  find  myself  dressing  for  dinner  at  the  Ritz. 
I  positively  refuse  to  go  beyond  Paris  the  first  day. 
Ah,  bother!  Here  comes  a  man  whom  I  wish  to 
avoid.  Let  us  be  on  the  move  before  he  sees  us,  which 
he  cannot  fail  to  do.  Don't  forget  that  I  have  a 
rehearsal  at  three.  I  haven't,  really;  but  we  must 
escape  somehow." 

Spencer,  who  had  salved  his  conscience  by  en- 
deavoring to  read  a  technical  letter  on  mining  affairs, 
would  be  less  than  human  if  he  did  not  lift  his  eyes 
then.  It  is  odd  how  the  sense  of  hearing,  when  left 
to  its  unfettered  play  by  the  absence  of  the  disturb- 
ing influence  of  facial  expression,  can  discriminate 
in  its  analysis  of  the  subtler  emotions.  He  was  quite 
sure  that  Miss  Jaques  was  startled,  even  annoyed, 
by  the  appearance  of  some  person  whom  she  did  not 
expect  to  meet,  and  he  surveyed  the  new  arrival 
critically,  perhaps  with  latent  hostility. 

He  saw  a  corpulent,  well  dressed  man  standing  at 
the  foot  of  the  stairs  and  looking  around  the  spacious 
room.  Obviously,  he  had  not  come  from  the  res- 
taurant. He  carried  his  hat,  gloves,  and  stick  in  his 
left  hand.  With  his  right  hand  he  caressed  his  chin, 
and  his  glance  wandered  slowly  over  the  little  knots 
of  people  in  the  foyer.  Beyond  the  fact  that  a  large 
diamond  sparkled  on  one  of  his  plump  fingers,  and 

14 


THE  WISH 

that  his  olive  tinted  face  was  curiously  opposed  to 
the  whiteness  of  the  uplifted  hand,  he  differed  in 
no  essential  from  the  hundreds  of  spick  and  span 
idlers  who  might  be  encountered  at  that  hour  in  the 
west  end  of  London.  He  had  the  physique  and  bear- 
ing of  a  man  athletic  in  his  youth  but  now  over- 
indulgent.  An  astute  tailor  had  managed  to  conceal 
the  too  rounded  curves  of  the  fourth  decade  by 
fashioning  his  garments  skillfully.  His  coat  fitted 
like  a  skin  across  his  shoulders  but  hung  loosely  in 
front.  The  braid  of  a  colored  waistcoat  was  a  mar- 
vel of  suggestion  in  indicating  a  waist,  and  the  same 
adept  craftsmanship  carried  the  eye  in  faultless  lines 
to  his  verni  boots.  Judged  by  his  profile,  he  was  not 
ill  looking.  His  features  were  regular,  the  mouth 
and  chin  strong,  the  forehead  slightly  rounded,  and 
the  nose  gave  the  merest  hint  of  Semitic  origin. 
Taken  altogether,  he  had  the  style  of  a  polished  man 
of  the  world,  and  Spencer  smiled  at  the  sudden  fancy 
that  seized  him. 

"  I  am  attending  the  first  act  of  a  little  play,"  he 
thought.  "  Helen  and  Millicent  rise  and  move  to 
center  of  stage;  enter  the  conventional  villain." 

Miss  Jaques  was  not  mistaken  when  she  said  that 
her  acquaintance  would  surely  see  her.  She  and 
Helen  Wynton  had  not  advanced  a  yard  from  their 
corner  before  the  newcomer  discovered  them.  He 
hastened  to  meet  them,  with  the  aspect  of  one  equally 
surprised  and  delighted.  His  manners  were  courtly, 
and  displayed  great  friendliness;  but  Spencer  was 

15 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

quick  to  notice  the  air  of  interest  with  which  his 
gaze  rested  on  Helen.  It  was  possible  to  see  now 
that  Millicent's  unexpected  friend  had  large,  promi- 
nent dark  eyes  which  lent  animation  and  vivacity  to 
a  face  otherwise  heavy  and  coarse.  It  was  impossible 
to  hear  all  that  was  said,  as  the  trio  stood  in  the 
middle  of  the  room  and  a  couple  of  men  passing  up 
the  stairs  at  the  moment  were  talking  loudly.  But 
Spencer  gathered  that  Millicent  was  explaining  vol- 
ubly how  she  and  Miss  Wynton  had  "  dropped  in 
here  for  luncheon  by  the  merest  chance,"  and  was 
equally  emphatic  in  the  declaration  that  she  was 
already  overdue  at  the  theater. 

The  man  said  something,  and  glanced  again  at 
Helen.      Evidently,    he   asked    for    an   introduction, 
which  Miss  Jaques  gave  with  an  affability  that  was 
eloquent  of  her  powers  as  an  actress.     The  unwished 
for  cavalier  was  not  to  be  shaken  off.     He  walked 
with  them  up  the  stairs  and  crossed  the  entrance 
hall.      Spencer,    stuffing  his    letters   into   a   pocket, 
strolled  that  way  too,  and  saw  this  pirate  in  a  morn- 
ing coat  bear  off  both  girls  in  a  capacious  motor  car. 
Not  to  be  balked  of  the  denouement  of  the  little 
comedy  in  real  life  for  which  he  had  provided  the 
audience,  the  American  grabbed  the  hall  porter. 
"  Say,"  he  said,  "  do  you  know  that  gentleman?  " 
"  Yes,  sir.    That  is  Mr.  Mark  Bower." 
Spencer  beamed  on  the  man  as  though  he  had  just 
discovered  that  Mr.   Mark  Bower  was  his   dearest 
friend. 

16 


THE  WISH 

"  Well,  now,  if  that  isn't  the  queerest  thing !  " 
he  said.  "  Is  that  Mark?  He's  just  gone  round  to 
the  Wellington  Theater,  I  guess.  How  far  is  it  from 
here?" 

"  Not  a  hundred  yards,  sir." 

Off  went  Spencer,  without  his  hat.  He  had  in- 
tended to  follow  in  a  cab,  but  a  sprint  would  be 
more  effective  over  such  a  short  distance.  He  crossed 
the  Strand  without  heed  to  the  traffic,  turned  to 
the  right,  and,  to  use  his  own  phrase,  "  butted  into 
a  policeman  "  at  the  first  corner. 

"I'm  on  the  hunt  for  the  Wellington  Theater," 
he  explained. 

"  You  needn't  hunt  much  farther,"  said  the  con- 
stable good  humoredly.  "  There  it  is,  a  little  way 
up  on  the  left." 

At  that  instant  Spencer  saw  Bower  raise  his  hat 
to  the  two  women.  They  hurried  inside  the  theater, 
and  their  escort  turned  to  reenter  his  motor.  The 
American  had  learned  what  he  wanted  to  know.  Miss 
Jaques  had  shaken  off  her  presumed  admirer,  and 
Miss  Wynton  had  aided  and  abetted  her  in  the  deed. 

"  You  don't  say !  "  he  exclaimed,  gazing  at  the 
building  admiringly.  "  It  looks  new.  In  fact  the 
whole  street  has  a  kind  of  San  Francisco-after-the- 
fire  appearance." 

"  That's  right,  sir.  It's  not  so  long  since  some 
of  the  worst  slums  in  London  were  pulled  down  to 
make  way  for  it." 

"  It's  fine ;  but  I'm  rather  stuck  on  antiquities. 

17 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

I've  seen  plenty  of  last  year  palaces  on  the  other 
side.  Have  a  drink,  will  you,  when  time's  up  ?  " 

The  policeman  glanced  surreptitiously  at  the  half- 
crown  which  Spencer  insinuated  into  his  palm,  and 
looked  after  the  donor  as  he  went  back  to  the  hotel. 

"  Well,  I'm  jiggered!  "  he  said  to  himself.  "  I've 
often  heard  tell  of  the  way  some  Americans  see 
London;  but  I  never  came  across  a  chap  who  rushed 
up  in  his  bare  head  and  took  a  squint  at  any  place 
in  that  fashion.  He  seemed  to  have  his  wits  about 
him  too ;  but  there  must  be  a  screw  loose  somewhere." 

And  indeed  Charles  K.  Spencer,  had  he  paused  to 
take  stock  of  his  behavior,  must  have  admitted  that 
it  was,  to  say  the  least,  erratic.  But  his  imagination 
was  fired;  his  sympathies  were  all  a-quiver  with  the 
thought  that  it  lay  within  his  power  to  share  with 
a  kin  soul  some  small  part  of  the  good  fortune  that 
had  fallen  to  his  lot  of  late. 

"Wants  a  fairy  godmother,  does  she?"  he  asked 
himself,  and  the  quiet  humor  that  gleamed  in  his  face 
caused  more  than  one  passerby  to  turn  and  watch 
him  as  he  strode  along  the  pavement.  "  Well,  I  guess 
I'll  play  a  character  not  hitherto  heard  of  in  the 
legitimate  drama.  What  price  the  fairy  godfather? 
I've  a  picture  of  myself  in  that  role.  Oh,  my!  See 
me  twirl  that  wand!  Helen,  you  shall  climb  those 
rocks.  But  I  don't  like  your  friend.  I  sha'n't  send 
you  to  Champery.  No — Champery's  off  the  map  for 


you." 


18 


CHAPTER  II 


THE    FULFILLMENT    OF    THE    WISH 

EXPLANATIONS  of  motive  are  apt  to  become  tedious. 
They  are  generally  inaccurate  too ;  for  who  can  re- 
duce a  fantasy  to  a  formula?  Nor  should  they  ever 
be  allowed  to  clip  the  wings  of  romance.  But  the 
painter  who  bade  his  subject  sit  under  a  sodium  light 
would  justly  be  deemed  a  lunatic,  and  any  analysis 
of  Spencer's  character  drawn  from  his  latest  prank 
would  be  faulty  in  the  extreme. 

In  all  London  at  that  moment  there  was  not  a 
more  level  headed  man  of  his  years.  He  was  twenty- 
eight,  an  expert  mining  engineer,  and  the  successful 
pioneer  of  a  new  method  of  hauling  ore.  Even  in 
Western  America,  "  God's  own  country,"  as  it  is  held 
to  be  by  those  who  live  there,  few  men  "  arrive  "  so 
early  in  life.  Some,  it  is  true,  amass  wealth  by  lucky 
speculation  before  they  are  fitted  by  experience  to 
earn  the  price  of  a  suit  of  clothes.  But  they  are  of 

19 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

the  freak  order.  They  are  not  to  be  classed  with  one 
who  by  hard  work' wrests  a  fortune  out  of  the  grim 
Colorado  granite.  Spencer  had  been  called  on  to 
endure  long  years  of  rebuff  and  scorn.  Though 
scoffed  at  by  many  who  thought  he  was  wrong,  he 
persisted  because  he  knew  he  was  right. 

Ofttimes  Fate  will  test  such  a  man  almost  to  break- 
ing point.  Then  she  yields,  and,  being  feminine,  her 
obduracy  is  the  measure  of  her  favors,  for  she  will 
bestow  on  her  dogged  suitor  all,  and  more  than  all, 
that  he  desired. 

The  draft  from  Leadville,  crammed  so  carelessly 
into  a  pocket  when  he  followed  the  three  to  the  door, 
was  a  fair  instance  of  this  trick  of  hers.  A  tunnel, 
projected  and  constructed  in  the  teeth  of  ridicule 
and  financial  opposition,  had  linked  up  the  under- 
ground workings  of  several  mines,  and  proved  con- 
clusively that  it  was  far  cheaper  to  bring  minerals  to 
the  rail  in  that  manner  than  to  sink  expensive  shafts, 
raise  the  ore  to  the  top  of  a  mountain,  and  cart  it  to 
its  old  level  in  the  valley. 

Once  the  thing  was  indisputable,  the  young  engi- 
neer found  himself  rich  and  famous.  To  increase 
the  feeders  of  the  main  bore,  he  drove  another  short 
gallery  through  a  mining  claim  acquired  for  a  few 
dollars, — a  claim  deemed  worthless  owing  to  a  geo- 
logical fault  that  traversed  its  whole  length.  That 
was  Fate's  opportunity.  Doubtless  she  smiled  mis- 
chievously when  she  gave  him  a  vein  of  rich  quartz 
through  which  to  quarry  his  way.  The  mere  delving 

20 


THE  FULFILLMENT  OF  THE  WISH 

of  the  rock  had  produced  two  thousand  dollars'  worth 
of  ore,  of  which  sum  he  took  a  moiety  by  agreement 
with  the  company  that  purchased  his  rights. 

People  in  Leadville  soon  discovered  that  Spencer 
was  a  bright  man, — "  yes,  sir,  a  citizen  of  whom  the 
chief  mining  city  of  the  Rocky  Mountains  has  every 
reason  to  be  proud," — and  the  railway  magnate  who 
had  nearly  ruined  him  by  years  of  hostility  buried 
the  past  grandiloquently  with  a  mot. 

"  Charles  K.  Spencer  can't  be  sidetracked,"  he  said. 
"  That  K  isn't  in  his  name  by  accident.  Look  at  it, — 
a  regular  buffer  of  a  letter !  Tell  you  what,  you  may 
monkey  with  Charles ;  but  when  you  hit  the  K  look 
out  for  trouble." 

Whereupon  the  miners  laughed,  and  said  that  the 
president  was  a  mighty  smart  man  too,  and  Spencer, 
who  knew  he  was  a  thief,  but  was  unwilling  to  quarrel 
with  him  for  the  sake  of  the  company,  thought  that 
a  six  months'  vacation  in  Europe  would  make  for 
peace  and  general  content. 

He  had  no  plans.  He  was  free  to  wander  whither- 
soever chance  led  him.  Arriving  in  London  from 
Plymouth  late  on  a  Thursday  evening,  he  took  a 
bus-driver's  holiday  on  Friday.  Finding  a  tunnel 
under  the  Thames  in  full  progress  near  the  hotel,  he 
sought  the  resident  engineer,  spoke  to  him  in  the 
lingua  franca  of  the  craft,  and  spent  several  danger- 
ous and  enjoyable  hours  in  crawling  through  all 
manner  of  uncomfortable  passages  bored  by  human 
worms  beneath  the  bed  of  the  river. 

21 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

And  this  was  Saturday,  and  here  he  was,  at  three 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  turning  over  in  his  mind  the 
best  way  of  sending  on  an  expensive  trip  abroad 
a  girl  who  had  not  the  remotest  notion  of  his  exist- 
ence. It  was  a  whim,  and  a  harmless  one,  and  he 
excused  it  to  his  practical  mind  by  the  reflection 
that  he  was  entitled  to  one  day  of  extravagance  after 
seven  years  of  hard  labor.  For  his  own  part,  he  was 
weary  of  mountains.  He  had  wrought  against  one, 
frowning  and  stubborn  as  any  Alp,  and  had  not 
desisted  until  he  reached  its  very  heart  with  a  four 
thousand  foot  lance.  Switzerland  was  the  last  place 
in  Europe  he  would  visit.  He  wanted  to  see  old 
cities  and  dim  cathedrals,  to  lounge  in  pleasant  lands 
where  rivers  murmured  past  lush  meadows.  Though 
an  American  born  and  bred,  there  was  a  tradition 
in  his  home  that  the  Spencers  were  once  people  of 
note  on  the  border.  When  tired  of  London,  he  meant 
to  go  north,  and  ramble  through  Liddesdale  in  search 
of  family  records.  But  the  business  presently  on 
hand  was  to  arrange  that  Swiss  excursion  for 
"  Helen,"  and  he  set  about  it  with  characteristic 
energy. 

In  the  first  instance,  he  noted  her  name  and  address 
on  the  back  of  the  Leadville  envelop.  Then  he 
sought  the  manager. 

"  I  guess  you  know  Switzerland  pretty  well,"  he 
said,  when  a  polite  man  was  produced  by  a  boy. 

The  assumption  was  well  founded.  In  fact,  the 
first  really  important  looking  object  the  manager 


THE  FULFILLMENT  OF  THE  WISH 

remembered  seeing  in  this  world  was  the  giant 
Matterhorn,  because  his  mother  told  him  that  if  he 
was  a  bad  boy  he  would  be  carried  off  by  the  demons 
that  dwelt  on  its  summit. 

"  What  sort  of  places  are  Evian-les-Bains  and 
Champery?  "  went  on  Spencer. 

"  Evian  is  a  fashionable  lakeside  town.  Champery 
is  in  the  hills  behind  it.  When  Evian  becomes  too 
hot  in  August,  one  goes  to  Champery  to  cool 
down." 

"  Are  they  anywhere  near  the  Engadine?  " 

"  Good  gracious,  no !  They  are  as  different  as 
chalk  and  cheese." 

"  Is  the  Engadine  the  cheese  ?  Does  it  take  the 
biscuit?  " 

The  manager  laughed.  Like  all  Londoners,  he 
regarded  every  American  as  a  humorist.  "  It  all  de- 
pends," he  said.  "  For  my  part,  I  think  the  Upper 
Engadine  is  far  and  away  the  most  charming  section 
of  Switzerland;  but  there  are  ladies  of  my  acquaint- 
ance who  would  unhesitatingly  vote  for  Evian,  and 
for  a  score  of  other  places  where  there  are  prom- 
enades and  casinos.  Are  you  thinking  of  making  a 
tour  there?  " 

"  There's  no  telling  where  I  may  bring  up  when 
I  cross  the  Channel,"  said  Spencer.  "  I  have  heard 
some  talk  of  the  two  districts,  and  it  occurred  to  me 
that  you  were  just  the  man  to  give  me  a  few  useful 
pointers." 

"  Well,  the  average  tourist  rushes  from  one  valley 
23 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

to  another,  tramps  over  a  pass  each,  morning',  and 
spends  the  afternoon  in  a  train  or  on  board  a  lake 
steamer.  But-  if  I  wanted  a  real  rest,  and  wished 
at  the  same  time  to  be  in  a  center  from  which  pleasant 
walks,  or  stiff  climbs  for  that  matter,  could  be 
obtained,  I  should  go  by  the  Engadine  Express  to 
St.  Moritz,  and  drive  from  there  to  the  Maloja- 
Kulm,  where  there  is  an  excellent  hotel  and  usually 
a  number  of  nice  people." 

"English?" 

"  Yes,  English  and  Americans.  They  select  the 
best  as  a  rule,  you  know." 

"  It  sounds  attractive,"  said  Spencer. 

"  And  it  is,  believe  me.  Don't  forget  the  name, 
Maloja-Kulm.  It  is  twelve  miles  from  everywhere, 
and  practically  consists  of  the  one  big  hotel." 

Spencer  procured  his  hat,  gloves,  and  stick,  and 
called  a  cab.  "  Take  me  to  «  The  Firefly '  office," 
he  said. 

"Beg  pawdon,  sir,  but  where's  that?"  asked  the 
driver. 

"  It's  up  to  you  to  find  out." 

"  Then  w'at  is  it,  guv'nor?  I've  heerd  of  the 
'Orse  an'  'Ound,  the  Chicken's  Friend,  the  Cat,  an' 
the  Bee;  but  the  Firefly  leaves  me  thinkin'.  Is  it  a 
noospaper? " 

"  Something  of  the  sort." 

"  All  right,  sir.  Jump  in.  We'll  soon  be  on  its 
track." 

The  hansom  scampered  off  to  Fleet-st.     As  the 


THE  FULFILLMENT  OF  THE  WISH 

result  of  inquiries  Spencer  was  deposited  at  the 
entrance  to  a  dingy  court,  the  depths  of  which,  he 
was  assured,  were  illumined  by  "  The  Firefly."  There 
is  nothing. that  so  mystifies  the  citizen  of  the  New 
World  as  the  hole-and-corner  aspect  of  some  of  the 
business  establishments  of  London.  He  soon  learns, 
however,  to  differentiate  between  the  spidery  dens 
where  money  is  amassed  and  the  soot  laden  tene- 
ments in  which  the  struggle  for  existence  is  keen. 
A  comprehensive  glance  at  the  exterior  of  the 
premises  occupied  by  "  The  Firefly "  at  once  ex- 
plained to  Spencer  why  the  cabman  did  not  know 
its  whereabouts.  Three  small  rooms  sufficed  for 
its  literary  and  commercial  staff,  and  "  To  let " 
notices  stared  from  several  windows  in  the  same 
building. 

*'  Appearances  are  deceptive  ever,"  murmured  he, 
as  he  scanned  the  legends  on  three  doors  in  a  narrow 
lobby ;  "  but  I  think  I'm  beginning  to  catch  on  to 
the  limited  extent  of  Miss  Helen's  earnings  from 
her  scientific  paragraphs." 

He  knocked  at  each  door;  but  received  no  answer. 
Then,  having  sharp  ears,  he  tried  the  handle  of  one 
marked  "  Private."  It  yielded,  and  he  entered,  to  be 
accosted  angrily  by  a  pallid,  elderly,  bewhiskered 
man,  standing  in  front  of  a  much  littered  table. 

"  Confound  it,  sir !  "  came  the  growl,  "  don't  you 
know  it  is  Saturday  afternoon?  And  what  do  you 
mean  by  coming  in  unannounced  ?  " 

"  Guess  you're  the  editor?  "  said  Spencer. 
25 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

"What  if  lam?" 

"  I've  just  happened  along  to  have  a  few  quiet 
words  with  you.  If  there's  no  callers  Saturdays, 
why,  that's  exactly  what  I  want,  and  I  came  right 
in  because  you  didn't  answer  my  knock." 

"  I  tell  you  I'm  not  supposed  to  be  here." 

"  Then  you  shouldn't  draw  corks  while  anybody 
is  damaging  the  paint  outside." 

Spencer  smiled  so  agreeably  that  the  editor  of 
"  The  Firefly  "  softened.  At  first,  he  had  taken  his 
visitor  for  an  unpaid  contributor ;  but  the  American 
accent  banished  this  phantom  of  the  imagination. 
He  continued  to  pour  into  a  tumbler  the  contents  of 
a  bottle  of  beer. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  now  that  you  are  here,  what 
can  I  do  for  you,  Mr. " 

"  Spencer — Charles  K.  Spencer." 

Instantly  it  struck  the  younger  man  that  little 
more  than  an  hour  had  elapsed  since  he  gave  his 
name  to  the  letter  clerk  in  the  hotel.  The  singularity 
of  his  proceedings  during  that  hour  was  thereby 
brought  home  to  him.  He  knew  nothing  of  news- 
papers, daily  or  weekly;  but  commonsense  suggested 
that  "  The  Firefly's "  radiance  was  not  over- 
powering. His  native  shrewdness  advised  caution, 
though  he  felt  sure  that  he  could,  in  homely 
phrase,  twist  this  faded  journalist  round  his 
little  finger. 

"  Before  I  open  the  ball,"  he  said,  "  may  I  see  a 
copy  of  your  magazine?  " 

26 


THE  FULFILLMENT  OF  THE  WISH 

Meanwhile  the  other  was  trying  to  sum  him  up. 
He  came  to  the  conclusion  that  his  visitor  meant  to 
introduce  some  new  advertising  scheme,  and,  as  "  The 
Firefly  "  was  sorely  in  need  of  advertisements,  he 
decided  to  listen. 

"  Here  is  last  week's  issue,"  he  said,  handing  to 
Spencer  a  small  sixteen-page  publication.  The  Amer- 
ican glanced  through  it  rapidly,  while  the  editor 
sampled  the  beer. 

"  I  see,"  said  Spencer,  after  he  had  found  a  column 
signed  "  H.  W.,"  which  consisted  of  paragraphs 
translated  from  a  German  article  on  airships, — "  I 
see  that  '  The  Firefly '  scintillates  around  the  Tree 
of  Knowledge." 

The  editor  relaxed  sufficiently  to  smile.  "  That 
is  a  good  description  of  its  weekly  flights,"  he  said. 

"  You  don't  use  many  cuts  ?  " 

"  N-no.  They  are  expensive  and  hard  to  obtain 
for  such  subjects  as  we  favor." 

"  Don't  you  think  it  would  be  a  good  notion  to 
brighten  it  up  a  bit — put  in  something  lively,  and 
more  in  keeping  with  the  name?  " 

"  I  have  no  opening  for  new  matter,  if  that  is  what 
you  mean,"  and  the  editor  stiffened  again. 

"  But  you  have  the  say-so  as  to  the  contents,  I 
suppose?  " 

"  Oh,  yes.    The  selection  rests  with  me." 

"  Good.  I'm  sort  of  interested  in  a  young  lady, 
Miss  Helen  Wynton  by  name.  She  lives  in  War- 
burton  Gardens,  and  does  work  for  you  occasionally. 

27 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

Now,  I  propose  to  send  her  on  a  month's  trip  to 
Switzerland,  where  she  will  represent  *  The  Firefly.' 
You  must  get  her  to  turn  out  a  couple  of  pages  of 
readable  stuff  each  week,  which  you  will  have  illus- 
trated by  a  smart  artist  at  a  cost  of  say,  twenty 
pounds  an  article  for  drawings  and  blocks.  I  pay 
all  expenses,  she  gets  the  trip,  and  you  secure  some 
good  copy  for  nothing.  Is  it  a  deal?" 

The  editor  sat  down  suddenly  and  combed  his 
whiskers  with  nervous  fingers.  He  was  a  weak  man, 
and  a  too  liberal  beer  diet  was  not  good  for  him. 

"  Are  you  in  earnest,  Mr.  Spencer?  "  he  queried 
in  a  bewildered  way. 

"  Dead  in  earnest.  You  write  the  necessary  letter 
to  Miss  Wynton  while  I  am  here,  and  I  hand  you 
the  first  twenty  in  notes.  You  are  to  tell  her  to  call 
Monday  noon  at  any  bank  you  may  select,  and  she 
will  be  given  her  tickets  and  a  hundred  pounds. 
When  I  am  certain  that  she  has  started  I  undertake 
to  pay  you  a  further  sum  of  sixty  pounds.  I  make 
only  two  conditions.  You  must  guarantee  to  star 
her  work,  as  it  should  help  her  some,  and  my  identity 
must  not  be  disclosed  to  her  under  any  circumstances. 
In  a  word,  she  ^nust  regard  herself  as  the  accredited 
correspondent  of  '  The  Firefly.'  If  she  appears  to 
be  a  trifle  rattled  by  your  generosity  in  the  matter 
of  terms,  you  must  try  and  look  as  if  you  did  that 
sort  of  thing  occasionally  and  would  like  to  do  it 
often." 

The  editor  pushed  his  chair  away  from  the  table. 

28 


THE  FULFILLMENT  OF  THE  WISH 

He  seemed  to  require  more  air.  "  Again  I  must  ask 
you  if  you  actually  mean  what  you  say?  "  he  gasped. 

Spencer  opened  a  pocketbook  and  counted  four 
five-pound  notes  out  of  a  goodly  bundle.  "  It  is  all 
here  in  neat  copperplate,"  he  said,  placing  the  notes 
on  the  table.  "  Maybe  you  haven't  caught  on  to  the 
root  idea  of  the  proposition,"  he  continued,  seeing 
that  the  other  man  was  staring  at  him  blankly.  "  I 
want  Miss  Wynton  to  have  a  real  good  time.  I  also 
want  to  lift  her  up  a  few  rungs  of  the  journalistic 
ladder.  But  she  is  sensitive,  and  would  resent  patron- 
age ;  so  I  must  not  figure  in  the  affair  at  all.  I  have 
no  other  motive  at  the  back  of  my  head.  I'm  putting 
up  two  hundred  pounds  out  of  sheer  philanthropy. 
Will  you  help?" 

"  There  are  points  about  this  amazing  proposal 
that  require  elucidation,"  said  the  editor  slowly. 
"  Travel  articles  might  possibly  come  within  the 
scope  of  '  The  Firefly  ' ;  but  I  am  aware  that  Miss 
Wynton  is  what  might  be  termed  an  exceedingly 
attractive  young  lady.  For  instance,  you  wouldn't 
be  philanthropic  on  my  account." 

"  You  never  can  tell.  It  all  depends  how  your 
case  appealed  to  me.  But  if  you  are  hinting  that 
I  intend  to  use  my  scheme  for  the  purpose  of  win- 
ning Miss  Wynton's  favorable  regard,  I  must  say 
that  she  strikes  me  as  the  kind  of  girl  who  would 
think  she  had  been  swindled  if  she  learned  the  truth. 
In  any  event,  I  may  never  see  her  again,  and  it  is 
certainly  not  my  design  to  follow  her  to  Switzerland. 

29 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

I  don't  kick  at  your  questions.  You're  old  enough 
to  be  her  father,  and  mine,  for  that  matter.  Go 
ahead.  This  is  Saturday  afternoon,  you  know,  and 
there's  no  business  stirring." 

Spencer  had  to  cover  the  ground  a  second  time 
before  everything  was  made  clear.  At  last  the  fateful 
letter  was  written.  He  promised  to  call  on  Monday 
and  learn  how  the  project  fared.  Then  he  relieved 
tjie  cabman's  anxiety,  as  the  alley  possessed  a  second 
exit,  and  was  driven  to  the  Wellington  Theater, 
where  he  secured  a  stall  for  that  night's  performance 
of  the  Chinese  musical  comedy  in  which  Miss  Millicent 
Jaques  played  the  part  of  a  British  Admiral's 
daughter. 

While  Spencer  was  watching  Helen's  hostess  cut- 
ting capers  in  a  Mandarin's  palace,  Helen  herself 
was  reading,  over  and  over  again,  a  most  wonderful 
letter  that  had  fallen  from  her  sky.  It  had  all  the 
appearance  of  any  ordinary  missive.  The  King's 
face  on  a  penny  stamp,  or  so  much  of  it  as  was  left 
uninjured  by  a  postal  smudge,  looked  familiar 
enough,  and  both  envelop  and  paper  resembled  those 
which  had  brought  her  other  communications  from 
"  The  Firefly."  But  the  text  was  magic,  rank 
necromancy.  No  wizard  who  ever  dealt  in  black  letter 
treatises  could  have  devised  a  more  convincing  proof 
of  his  occult  powers  than  this  straightforward  offer 
made  by  the  editor  of  "  The  Firefly."  Four  articles 
of  five  thousand  words  each, — tickets  and  100 
pounds  awaiting  her  at  a  bank, — go  to  the  Maloja- 

30 


THE  FULFILLMENT  OF  THE  WISH 

Kulm  Hotel;  leave  London  at  the  earliest  possible 
date;  please  send  photographs  and  suggestions  for 
black-and-white  illustrations  of  mountaineering  and 
society!  What  could  it  possibly  mean? 

At  the  third  reading  Helen  began  to  convince  her- 
self that  this  rare  stroke  of  luck  was  really  hers. 
The  concluding  paragraph  shed  light  on  "  The  Fire- 
fly's "  extraordinary  outburst. 

"  As  this  commission  heralds  a  new  departure  for 
the  paper,  I  have  to  ask  you  to  be  good  enough  not 
to  make  known  the  object  of  your  journey.  In  fact, 
it  will  be  as  well  if  you  do  not  state  your  whereabouts 
to  any  persons  other  than  your  near  relatives.  Of 
course,  all  need  for  secrecy  ceases  with  the  appear- 
ance of  your  first  article;  but  by  that  time  you  will 
practically  be  on  your  way  home  again.  I  am  anxious 
to  impress  on  you  the  importance  of  this  instruction." 

Helen  found  herein  the  germ  of  understanding. 
"  The  Firefly "  meant  to  boom  itself  on  its  Swiss 
correspondence ;  but  even  that  darksome  piece  of 
journalistic  enterprise  did  not  explain  the  princely 
munificence  of  the  hundred  pounds.  At  last,  when 
she  calmed  down  sufficiently  to  be  capable  of  con- 
nected thought,  she  saw  that  "  mountaineering " 
implied  the  hire  of  guides,  and  that  "  society  "  meant 
frocks.  Of  course  it  was  intended  that  she  should 
spend  the  whole  of  the  money,  and  thus  give  "  The 
Firefly  "  a  fair  return  for  its  outlay.  And  a  rapid 
calculation  revealed  the  dazzling  fact  that  after  set- 
ting aside  the  fabulous  sum  of  two  pounds  a  day  for 

31 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

expenses  she  still  had  forty  pounds  left  wherewith 
to  replenish  her  scanty  stock  of  dresses. 

Believing  that  at  any  instant  the  letter  might 
dissolve  into  a  curt  request  to  keep  her  scientific  jot- 
tings strictly  within  the  limits  of  a  column,  Helen 
sat  with  it  lying  open  on  her  lap,  and  searched  the 
pages  of  a  tattered  guidebook  for  particulars  of 
the  Upper  Engadine.  She  had  read  every  line  be- 
fore; but  the  words  now  seemed  to  live.  St.  Moritz, 
Pontresina,  Sils-Maria,  Silvaplana, — they  ceased  to 
be  mere  names, — they  became  actualities.  The  Julier 
Pass,  the  Septimer,  the  Forno  Glacier,  the  Diavolezza 
Route,  and  the  rest  of  the  stately  panorama  of  snow- 
capped peaks,  blue  lakes,  and  narrow  valleys, — 
valleys  which  began  with  picturesque  chalets,  dun 
colored  cattle,  and  herb  laden  pastures,  and  ended 
in  the  yawning  mouths  of  ice  rivers  whence  issued 
the  milky  white  streams  that  dashed  through  the 
lower  gorges, — they  passed  before  her  eyes  as  she 
read  till  she  was  dazzled  by  their  glories. 

What  a  day  dream  to  one  who  dwelt  in  smoky 
London  year  in  and  year  out !  What  an  experience 
to  look  forward  to!  What  memories  to  treasure! 
Nor  was  she  blind  to  the  effect  of  the  undertaking 
on  her  future.  Though  "  The  Firefly "  was  not 
an  important  paper,  though  its  editor  was  of  a  half- 
forgotten  day  and  generation,  she  would  now  have 
good  work  to  show  when  asked  what  she  had  done. 
She  was  not  enamored  of  beetles.  Even  the  classify- 
ing of  them  was  monotonous,  and  she  had  striven. 


THE  FULFILLMENT  OF  THE  WISH 

bravely  to  push  her  way  through  the  throng  of 
would-be  writers  that  besieged  the  doors  of  every 
popular  periodical  in  London.  It  was  a  heartbreak- 
ing struggle.  The  same  post  that  gave  her  this 
epoch  marking  letter  had  brought  back  two  stories 
with  the  stereotyped  expression  of  editorial  regret. 

"  Now,"  thought  Helen,  when  her  glance  fell  on 
the  bulky  envelops,  "  my  name  will  at  least  become 
known.  And  editors  very  much  resemble  the  public 
they  cater  for.  If  a  writer  achieves  success,  £hey  all 
want  him.  I  have  often  marveled  how  any  author 
got  his  first  chance.  Now  I  know.  It  comes  this 
way,  like  a  flash  of  lightning  from  a  summer 
sky." 

It  was  only  fit  and  proper  that  she  should  magnify 
her  first  real  commission.  No  veteran  soldier  ever 
donned  a  field  marshal's  uniform  with  the  same  zest 
that  he  displayed  when  his  subaltern's  outfit  came 
from  the  tailor.  So  Helen  glowed  with  that  serious 
enthusiasm  which  is  the  soul  of  genius,  for  without  it 
life  becomes  flat  and  gray,  and  she  passed  many 
anxious,  half-doubting  hours  until  a  courteous  bank 
official  handed  her  a  packet  at  the  appointed  time 
on  Monday,  and  gave  her  a  receipt  to  sign,  and 
asked  her  how  she  would  take  her  hundred  pounds — 
did  she  want  it  all  in  notes  or  some  in  gold? 

She  was  so  unnerved  by  this  sudden  confirmation 
of  her  good  fortune  that  she  stammered  confusedly, 
"  I— really— don't  know." 

"  Well,  it  would  be  rather  heavy  in  gold,"  came 
33 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

the  smiling  comment.  "  This  money,  I  understand, 
is  paid  to  you  for  some  journalistic  enterprise  that 
will  take  you  abroad.  May  I  suggest  that  you  should 
carry,  say,  thirty  pounds  in  notes  and  ten  in  gold, 
and  allow  me  to  give  you  the  balance  in  the  form  of 
circular  notes,  which  are  payable  only  under  your 
signature?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Helen,  rosy  red  at  her  own  awkward- 
ness, "  that  will  be  very  nice." 

The  official  pushed  across  the  counter  some  bank- 
notes and  sovereigns,  and  summoned  a  commission- 
aire to  usher  her  into  the  waiting  room  till  he  had 
prepared  the  circular  notes.  The  respite  was  a  bless- 
ing. It  gave  Helen  time  to  recover  her  self  posses- 
sion. She  opened  the  packet  and  found  therein 
coupons  for  the  journey  to  and  from  St.  Moritz, 
together  with  a  letter  from  the  sleeping  car  com- 
pany, from  which  she  gathered  that  a  berth  on  the 
Engadine  Express  was  provisionally  reserved  in  her 
name  for  the  following  Thursday,  but  any  change 
to  a  later  date  must  be  made  forthwith,  as  the  holi- 
day pressure  was  beginning.  It  was  advisable  too, 
she  was  reminded,  that  she  should  secure  her  return 
berth  before  leaving  London. 

Each  moment  the  reality  of  the  tour  became  more 
patent.  She  might  feel  herself  bewitched;  but 
pounds  sterling  and  railway  tickets  were  tangible 
things,  and  not  to  be  explained  away  by  any  fantasy. 
By  the  time  her  additional  wealth  was  ready  she  was 
better  fitted  to  guard  it.  She  hurried  away  quite 

34, 


THE  FULFILLMENT  OF  THE  WISH 

unconscious  of  the  admiring  eyes  that  were  raised 
from  dockets  and  ledgers  behind  the  grille.  She 
made  for  the  court  in  which."  The  Firefly  "  had  its 
abode.  The  squalor  of  the  passage,  the  poverty 
stricken  aspect  of  the  stairs, — items  which  had  pre- 
pared her  on  other  occasions  for  the  starvation  rate 
of  pay  offered  for  her  work, — now  passed  unheeded. 
This  affectation  of  scanty  means  was  humorous. 
Obviously,  some  millionaire  had  secured  what  the 
newspapers  called  "  a  controlling  interest  "  in  "  The 
Firefly." 

She  sought  Mackenzie,  the  editor,  and  he  received 
her  with  a  manifest  reluctance  to  waste  his  precious 
time  over  details  that  was  almost  as  convincing  as 
the  money  and  vouchers  she  carried. 

"  Yes,  Thursday  will  suit  admirably,"  he  said  in 
reply  to  her  breathless  questions.  "  You  will  reach 
Maloja  on  Friday  evening,  and  if  you  post  the  first 
article  that  day  week  it  will  arrive  in  good  time  for 
the  next  number.  As  for  the  style  and  tone,  I  leave 
those  considerations  entirely  to  you.  So  long  as  the 
matter  is  bright  and  readable,  that  is  all  I  want.  I 
put  my  requirements  clearly  in  my  letter.  Follow 
that,  and  you  cannot  make  any  mistake." 

Helen  little  realized  how  precise  were  the  instruc- 
tions given  two  hours  earlier  to  the  editor,  the  bank 
clerk,  and  the  sleeping  car  company.  Mackenzie's 
curt  acceptance  of  her  mission  brought  a  wondering 
cry  to  her  lips. 

"  I  am  naturally  overjoyed  at  my  selection  for 
35 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

this  work,"  she  said.  "  May  I  ask  how  you  came 
to  think  of  me  ?  " 

"  Oh,  it  is  hard  to  say  how  these  things  are  de- 
termined," he  answered.  "  We  liked  your  crisp  way 
of  putting  dull  facts,  I  suppose,  and  thought  that  a 
young  lady's  impressions  of  life  in  an  Anglo-Swiss 
summer  community  would  be  fresher  and  more  at- 
tractive than  a  man's.  That  is  all.  I  hope  you  will 
enjoy  your  experiences." 

"  But,  please,  I  want  to  thank  you " 

"  Not  a  word !  Business  is  business,  you  know. 
If  a  thing  is  worth  doing,  it  must  be  done  well. 
Good-by!" 

He  flattered  himself  that  he  could  spend  another 
man's  money  with  as  lordly  an  air  as  the  youngest 
journalist  on  Fleet-st.  The  difficulty  was  to  find 
the  man  with  the  money,  and  Mackenzie  had  given 
much  thought  during  the  Sabbath  to  the  potentiali- 
ties that  lay  behind  Spencer's  whim.  He  was  sure 
the  incident  would  not  close  with  the  publication  of 
Miss  Wynton's  articles.  Judiciously  handled,  her 
unknown  benefactor  might  prove  equally  beneficial 
to  "  The  Firefly." 

So  Helen  tripped  out  into  Fleet-st.,  and  turned 
her  pretty  face  westward,  and  looked  so  eager  and 
happy  that  it  is  not  surprising  if  many  a  man  eyed 
her  as  she  passed,  and  many  a  woman  sighed  to  think 
that  another  woman  could  find  life  in  this  dreary 
city  such  a  joyous  thing. 

A   sharp   walk   through   the   Strand   and    across 

36 


THE  FULFILLMENT  OF  THE  WISH 

Trafalgar  Square  did  a  good  deal  toward  restoring 
the  poise  of  her  wits.  For  safety,  she  had  pinned 
the  envelop  containing  her  paper  money  and  tickets 
inside  her  blouse.  The  mere  presence  of  the  solid 
little  parcel  reminded  her  at  every  movement  that 
she  was  truly  bound  for  the  wonderful  Engadine, 
and,  now  that  the  notion  was  becoming  familiar,  she 
was  the  more  astonished  that  the  choice  of  "  The 
Firefly  "  had  fallen  on  her.  It  was  all  very  well  for 
Mr.  Mackenzie  to  say  that  the  paper  would  be  bright- 
ened by  a  woman's  views  on  life  in  the  high  Alps. 
The  poor  worn  man  looked  as  if  such  a  holiday  would 
have  done  him  a  world  of  good.  But  the  certain  fact 
remained  that  there  was  no  room  for  error.  It  was 
she,  Helen  Wynton,  and  none  other,  for  whom  the 
gods  had  contrived  this  miracle.  If  it  had  been 
possible,  she  would  have  crossed  busy  Cockspur-st. 
with  a  hop,  skip,  and  a  jump  in  order  to  gain  the 
sleeping  car  company's  premises. 

She  knew  the  place  well.  Many  a  time  had  she 
looked  at  the  attractive  posters  in  the  windows, — 
those  gorgeous  fly  sheets  that  told  of  winter  in 
summer  among  the  mountains  of  Switzerland  and 
the  Tyrol,  and  of  summer  in  winter  along  the  sunlit 
shores  of  the  Cote  d'Azur.  She  almost  laughed 
aloud  at  the  thought  that  possessed  her  as  she  waited 
for  a  moment  on  the  curb  to  allow  a  press  of  traffic 
to  pass. 

"  If  my  luck  holds  till  Christmas,  I  may  be  sent 
to  Monte  Carlo,"  she  said  to  herself.  "  And  why 

37 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

not?  It's  the  first  step  that  counts,  and  '  The  Fire- 
fly,* once  fairly  embarked  on  a  career  of  wild  ex- 
travagance, may  keep  it  up." 

Under  the  pressure  of  that  further  inspiration  she 
refused  to  wait  any  longer,  but  dodged  an  omnibus, 
a  motor  car,  and  some  hansoms,  and  pushed  open 
the  swing  doors  of  the  Bureau  de  la  Campagnie  des 
Wagons-Lits.  She  did  not  notice  that  the  automobile 
stopped  very  quickly  a  few  yards  higher  up  the 
street.  The  occupant,  Mark  Bower,  alighted,  looked 
at  her  through  the  window  to  make  sure  he  was  not 
mistaken,  and  followed  her  into  the  building.  He 
addressed  some  question  to  an  attendant,  and  heard 
Helen  say: 

"  Yes,  please.  Thursday  will  suit  admirably.  I 
am  going  straight  through  to  St.  Moritz.  I  shall 
call  on  Wednesday  and  let  you  know  what  day  I  wish 
to  return." 

If  Bower  had  intended  to  speak  to  her,  he  seemed 
to  change  his  mind  rather  promptly.  Helen's  back 
was  turned.  She  was  watching  a  clerk  writing  out 
a  voucher  for  her  berth  in  the  sleeping  car,  and  the 
office  was  full  of  other  prospective  travelers  dis- 
cussing times  and  routes  with  the  officials.  Bower 
thanked  his  informant  for  information  which  he 
could  have  supplied  in  ampler  detail  himself.  Then 
he  went  out,  and  looked  again  at  Helen  from  the 
doorway;  but  she  was  wholly  unaware  of  his  pres- 
ence. 

Thus  it  came  about,  quite  simply  and  naturally, 
38 


J.V. 


'  I  am  going  through  to  St.  Moritz. 


Page  38 


THE  FULFILLMENT  OF  THE  WISH 

that  Mark  Bower  met  Miss  Helen  Wynton  on  the 
platform  of  Victoria  Station  on  Thursday  morning, 
and  learned  that,  like  himself,  she  was  a  passenger 
by  the  Engadine  Express.  He  took  her  presence 
as  a  matter  of  course,  hoped  she  would  allow  him  to 
secure  her  a  comfortable  chair  on  the  steamer,  told 
her  that  the  weather  report  was  excellent,  and  re- 
marked that  they  might  expect  a  pleasant  crossing 
in  the  new  turbine  steamer. 

Then,  halving  ascertained  that  she  had  a  corner 
seat,  and  that  her  luggage  was  registered  through 
to  St.  Moritz  (Helen  having  arrived  at  the  station 
a  good  hour  before  the  train  was  due  to  start),  he 
bowed  himself  away,  being  far  too  skilled  a  stalker 
of  such  shy  game  to  thrust  his  company  on  her 
at  that  stage. 

His  attitude  was  very  polite  and  friendly,  and 
Helen  was  almost  grateful  to  the  chance  which  had 
brought  him  there.  She  was  feeling  just  a  trifle 
lonely  in  the  midst  of  the  gay  and  chattering  throng 
that  crowded  the  station.  The  presence  of  one  who 
was  not  wholly  a  stranger,  of  a  friend's  friend,  of  a 
man  whose  name  was  familiar,  made  the  journey  look 
less  dreamlike.  She  was  glad  he  had  not  sought  to 
travel  in  her  carriage.  That  was  tactful,  and  in- 
deed his  courtesy  and  pleasant  words  during  her 
first  brief  meeting  with  him  in  the  Embankment 
Hotel  had  conveyed  the  same  favorable  impression. 

So  when  the  hour  hand  of  the  big  clock  overhang- 
ing the  center  of  the  platform  pointed  to  eleven,  the 

39 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

long  train  glided  quietly  away  with  its  load  of 
pleasure-seekers,  and  neither  Helen  nor  her  new 
acquaintance  could  possibly  know  that  their  meet- 
ing had  been  witnessed,  with  a  blank  amazement  that 
was  rapidly  transmuted  into  sheer  annoyance,  by 
a  young  American  engineer  named  Charles  K. 
Spencer. 


CHAPTER  III 

WHEREIN    TWO    PEOPLE    BECOME    BETTER    ACQUAINTED 

MACKENZIE,  of  course,  was  aware  that  Miss 
Wjnton  would  leave  London  by  the  eleven  o'clock 
train  on  Thursday,  and  Spencer  saw  no  harm  in 
witnessing  her  departure.  He  found  a  good  deal 
of  quiet  fun  in  noting  her  animated  expression  and 
businesslike  air.  Her  whole-souled  enjoyment  of 
novel  surroundings  was  an  asset  for  the  outlay  of 
his  two  hundred  pounds,  and  he  had  fully  and  finally 
excused  that  piece  of  extravagance  until  he  caught 
sight  of  Bower  strolling  along  the  platform  with 
the  easy  confidence  of  one  who  knew  exactly  whom 
he  would  meet  and  how  he  would  account  for  his 
unbidden  presence. 

Spencer  at  once  suspected  the  man's  motives,  not 
without  fair  cause.  They  were,  he  thought,  as  plain 
to  him  as  they  were  hidden  from  the  girl.  Bower 
counterfeited  the  genuine  surprise  on  Helen's  face 

41 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

with  admirable  skill;  but,  to  the  startled  onlooker, 
peering  beneath  the  actor's  mask,  his  stagy  artifice 
was  laid  bare. 

And  Spencer  was  quite  helpless,  a  condition  that 
irritated  him  almost  beyond  control.  He  had  abso- 
lutely no  grounds  for  interference.  He  could  only 
glower  angrily  and  in  silence  at  a  meeting  he  could 
not  prevent.  Conjecture  might  run  riot  as  to  the 
causes  which  had  given  this  sinister  bend  to  an  idyl, 
but  perforce  he  must  remain  dumb. 

From  one  point  of  view,  it  was  lucky  that  Helen's 
self  appointed  "  godfather  "  was  in  a  position  not 
to  misjudge  her;  from  another,  it  would  have  been 
better  for  Spencer's  peace  of  mind  were  he  left  in 
ignorance  of  the  trap  that  was  apparently  being 
laid  for  her.  Perhaps  Fate  had  planned  this  thing — 
having  lately  smiled  on  the  American,  she  may  have 
determined  to  plague  him  somewhat.  At  any  rate, 
in  that  instant  the  whole  trend  of  his  purpose  took 
a  new  turn.  From  a  general  belief  that  he  would 
never  again  set  eyes  on  one  in  whose  fortunes  he 
felt  a  transient  interest,  his  intent  swerved  to  a  fixed 
resolve  to  protect  her  from  Bower.  It  would  have 
puzzled  him  to  assign  a  motive  for  his  dislike  of 
the  man.  But  the  feeling  was  there,  strong  and 
active.  It  even  gave  him  a  certain  satisfaction  to 
remember  that  he  was  hostile  to  Bower  before  he 
had  seen  him. 

Indeed,  he  nearly  yielded  to  the  momentary  im- 
pulse that  bade  him  hasten  to  the  booking  office 

42 


BECOME  BETTER  ACQUAINTED 

and  secure  a  ticket  for  St.  Moritz  forthwith.  He 
dismissed  the  notion  as  quixotic  and  unnecessary. 
Bower's  attitude  in  not  pressing  his  company  on 
Miss  Wynton  at  this  initial  stage  of  the  journey 
revealed  a  subtlety  that  demanded  equal  restraint 
on  Spencer's  part.  Helen  herself  was  so  far  from 
suspecting  the  truth  that  Bower  would  be  compelled 
to  keep  up  the  pretense  of  a  casual  rencontre. 
Nevertheless,  Spencer's  chivalric  nature  was  stirred 
to  the  depths.  The  conversation  overheard  in  the 
Embankment  Hotel  had  given  him  a  knowledge  of 
the  characteristics  of  two  women  that  would  have 
amazed  both  of  them  were  they  told  of  it.  He  was 
able  to  measure  too  the  exact  extent  of  Bower's 
acquaintance  with  Helen,  while  he  was  confident  that 
the  relationship  between  Bower  and  Millicent  Jaques 
had  gone  a  great  deal  further  than  might  be  inferred 
from  the  actress's  curt  statement  that  he  was  one 
whom  she  "  wished  to  avoid."  These  two  extremes 
could  be  reconciled  only  by  a  most  unfavorable  esti- 
mate of  Bower,  and  that  the  American  conceded 
without  argument. 

Of  course,  there  remained  the  possibility  that 
Bower  was  really  a  traveler  that  day  by  idle  chance ; 
but  Spencer  blew  aside  this  alternative  with  the  first 
whiff  of  smoke  from  the  cigar  he  lit  mechanically  as 
soon  as  the  train  left  the  station. 

"  No,"  he  said,  in  grim  self  communing,  "  the 
skunk  found  out  somehow  that  she  was  going  abroad, 
and  planned  to  accompany  her.  I  could  see  it  in 

43 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

the  smirk  on  his  face  as  soon  as  he  discovered  her 
whereabouts  on  the  platform.  If  he  means  to  sum- 
mer at  Maloja,  I  guess  my  thousand  dollars  was 
expended  to  no  good  purpose,  and  the  quicker  I 
put  up  another  thousand  to  pull  things  straight 
the  happier  I  shall  be.  And  let  me  tell  you,  mother, 
that  if  I  get  Helen  through  this  business  well  and 
happy,  I  shall  quit  fooling  round  as  godfather,  or 
stage  uncle,  or  any  other  sort  of  soft-hearted  idiot. 
Meanwhile,  Bower  has  jumped  my  claim." 

His  glance  happened  to  fall  on  an  official  with 
the  legend  "  Ticket  Inspector  "  on  the  collar  of  his 
coat.  He  remembered  that  this  man,  or  some  other 
closely  resembling  him,  had  visited  the  carriage  in 
which  Bower  traveled. 

"  Say,"  he  cried,  hailing  him  on  the  spur  of  the 
moment,  "  when  does  the  next  train  leave  for  St. 
Moritz?" 

"  At  two-twenty  from  Charing  Cross,  sir.  But 
the  Engadine  Express  is  the  best  one.  Did  you 
miss  it?  " 

"  No.  I  just  blew  in  here  to  see  a  friend  off,  and 
the  trip  kind  of  appealed  to  me.  Did  you  notice 
a  reserved  compartment  for  a  Mr.  Mark  Bower?  " 

"  I  know  Mr.  Bower  very  well,  sir.  He  goes  to 
Paris  or  Vienna  twenty  times  a  year." 

"  To-day  he  is  going  to  Switzerland." 

"  So  he  is,  to  Zurich,  I  think.  First  single  he 
had.  But  he's  sure  to  bring  up  in  Vienna  or  Frank- 
fort. I  wish  I  knew  half  what  he  knows  about 

44 


BECOME  BETTER  ACQUAINTED 

foreign  money  business.  I  shouldn't  be  punching 
tickets  here  very  long.  Thank  you,  sir.  Charing 
Cross  at  two-twenty;  but  you  may  have  difficulty 
about  booking  a  berth  in  the  sleeper.  Just  now 
everybody  is  crossing  the  Channel." 

"  It  looks  like  that,"  said  Spencer,  who  had  ob- 
tained the  information  he  wanted.  Taking  a  cab, 
he  drove  to  the  sleeping  car  company's  office,  where 
he  asked  for  a  map  of  the  Swiss  railways.  Zurich, 
as  Bower's  destination,  puzzled  him;  but  he  did  not 
falter  in  his  purpose. 

"  The  man  is  a  rogue,"  he  thought,  "  or  I  have 
never  seen  one.  Anyhow,  a  night  in  the  train  doesn't 
cut  any  ice,  and  Switzerland  can  fill  the  bill  for  a 
week  as  well  as  London  or  Scotland." 

He  was  fortunate  in  the  fact  that  some  person 
wished  to  postpone  a  journey  that  day,  and  the 
accident  assured  him  of  comfortable  quarters  from 
Calais  onward.  Then  he  drove  to  a  bank,  and  to 
"  The  Firefly  "  office.  Mackenzie  had  just  opened 
his  second  bottle  of  beer.  By  this  time  he  regarded 
Spencer  as  an  amiable  lunatic.  He  greeted  him  now 
with  as  much  glee  as  his  dreary  nature  was  capable  of. 

"  Hello !  "  he  said.  "  Been  to  see  the  last  of  the 
lady?" 

"  Not  quite.  I  want  to  take  back  what  I  said 
about  not  going  to  Switzerland.  I'm  following  thi« 
afternoon." 

"Great  Scott!     You're  sudden." 

"  I'm  built  that  way,"  said  Spencer  dryly.  "  Here 
45 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

are  the  sixty  pounds  I  promised  you.  Now  I  want 
you  to  do  me  a  favor.  Send  a  messenger  to  the 
Wellington  Theater  with  a  note  for  Miss  Millicent 
Jaques,  and  ask  her  if  she  can  oblige  you  with  the 
present  address  of  Miss  Helen  Wynton.  Make  a 
pretext  of  work.  No  matter  if  she  writes  to  her 
friend  and  the  inquiry  leads  to  talk.  You  can  put 
up  a  suitable  fairy  tale,  I  have  no  doubt." 

"  Better  still,  let  my  assistant  write.  Then  if 
necessary  I  can  curse  him  for  not  minding  his  own 
business.  But  what's  in  the  wind?  " 

"  I  wish  to  find  out  whether  or  not  Miss  Jaques 
knows  of  this  Swiss  journey;  that  is  all.  If  the  reply 
reaches  you  by  one  o'clock  send  it  to  the  Embank- 
ment Hotel.  Otherwise,  post  it  to  me  at  the  Kursaal, 
Maloja-Kulm;  but  not  in  an  office  envelop." 

"  You'll  come  back,  Mr.  Spencer?  "  said  the  editor 
plaintively,  for  he  had  visions  of  persuading  the 
eccentric  American  to  start  a  magazine  of  his  own. 

"  Oh,  yes.  You'll  probably  see  me  again  within 
six  days.  I'll  look  in  and  report  progress.  Good  by." 

A  messenger  caught  him  as  he  was  leaving  the 
hotel.  Mackenzie  had  not  lost  any  time,  and  Miss 
Jaques  happened  to  be  at  the  theater. 

"  Sorry,"  she  wrote,  in  the  artistic  script  that 
looks  so  well  in  face  cream  and  soap  advertisements, 
"I  can't  for  the  life  of  me  remember  the  number; 
but  Miss  Wyton  lives  somewhere  in  Warburton 
Gardens."  The  signature,  "  Millicent  Jaques,"  was 
an  elegant  thing  in  itself,  carefully  thought  out  and 

46 


BECOME  BETTER  ACQUAINTED 

never  hurried  in  execution,  no  matter  how  pressed 
she  might  be  for  time.  Spencer  was  on  the  point 
of  scattering  the  note  in  little  pieces  along  the 
Strand;  but  he  checked  himself. 

"  Guess  I'll  keep  this  as  a  souvenir,"  he  said,  and 
it  found  a  place  in  his  pocketbook. 

Helen  Wynton,  having  crossed  the  Channel  many 
times  during  her  childhood,  was  no  novice  amid  the 
bustle  and  crush  on  the  narrow  pier  at  Dover.  She 
had  dispensed  with  all  accessories  for  the  journey, 
except  the  few  articles  that  could  be  crammed  into 
a  handbag.  Thus,  being  independent  of  porters, 
she  was  one  of  the  first  to  reach  the  steamer's  gang- 
way. As  usual,  all  the  most  sheltered  nooks  on 
board  were  occupied.  There  seems  to  be  a  mysteri- 
ous type  of  traveler  who  inhabits  the  cross-Channel 
vessels  permanently.  No  matter  how  speedy  may  be 
the  movements  of  a  passenger  by  the  boat-train, 
either  at  Dover  or  Calais,  the  best  seats  on  the  upper 
deck  invariably  reveal  the  presence  of  earlier  arrivals 
by  deposits  of  wraps  and  packages.  This  phenome- 
non was  not  strange  to  Helen.  A  more  baffling  cir- 
cumstance was  the  altered  shape  of  the  ship.  The 
familiar  lines  of  the  paddle  steamer  were  gone,  and 
Helen  was  wondering  where  she  might  best  bestow 
herself  and  her  tiny  valise,  when  she  heard  Bower's 
voice. 

"  I  took  the  precaution  to  telegraph  from  London 
to  one  of  the  ship's  officers,"  he  said,  and  nodded 
toward  a  couple  "of  waterproof  rugs  which  guarded 

47 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

a  recess  behind  the  Captain's  cabin.  "  That  is  our 
corner,  I  expect.  My  friend  will  be  here  in  a 
moment." 

Sure  enough,  a  man  in  uniform  approached  and 
lifted  his  gold  laced  cap.  "  We  have  a  rather 
crowded  ship,  Mr.  Bower,"  he  said ;  "  but  you  will 
be  quite  comfortable  there.  I  suppose  you  deemed 
the  weather  too  fine  to  need  your  usual  cabin?  " 

"  Yes.    I  have  a  companion  to-day,  you  see." 

Helen  was  a  little  bewildered  by  this;  but  it  was 
very  pleasant  to  claim  undisputed  possession  of  a 
quiet  retreat  from  which  to  watch  others  trying  to 
find  chairs.  And,  although  Bower  had  a  place  re- 
served by  her  side,  he  did  not  sit  down.  He  chatted 
for  a  few  minutes  on  such  eminently  safe  topics  as 
the  smooth  sea,  the  superiority  of  turbine  engines  in 
the  matter  of  steadiness,  the  advisability  of  lunching 
in  the  train  after  leaving  Calais,  rather  than  on 
board  the  ship,  and  soon  betook  himself  aft,  there 
to  smoke  and  chat  with  some  acquaintances  whom  he 
fell  in  with.  Dover  Castle  was  becoming  a  gray 
blur  on  the  horizon  when  he  spoke  to  Helen 
again. 

"  You  look  quite  comfortable,"  he  said  pleasantly, 
**  and  it  is  wise  not  to  risk  walking  about  if  you  are 
afraid  of  being  ill." 

"  I  used  to  cross  in  bad  weather  without  conse- 
quences," she  answered ;  "  but  I  am  older  now,  and 
am  doubtful  of  experiments." 

"  You  were  educated  abroad,  then  ?  " 
48 


BECOME  BETTER  ACQUAINTED 

"  Yes.  I  was  three  years  in  Brussels — three  happy 
years." 

"  Ah !  Why  qualify  them  ?  All  your  years  are 
happy,  I  should  imagine,  if  I  may  judge  by  appear- 
ances." 

"  Well,  if  happiness  can  be  defined  as  contentment, 
you  are  right;  but  I  have  had  my  sad  periods  too, 
Mr.  Bower.  I  lost  my  mother  when  I  was  eighteen, 
and  that  was  a  blow  under  which  I  have  never  ceased 
to  wince.  Fortunately,  I  had  to  seek  consolation  in 
work.  Added  to  good  health,  it  makes  for  con- 
tent." 

"  You  are  quite  a  philosopher.  Will  you  pardon 
my  curiosity?  I  too  lead  the  strenuous  life.  Now, 
I  should  like  to  have  your  definition  of  work.  I  am 
not  questioning  your  capacity.  My  wonder  is  that 
you  shoulcl  mention  it  at  all." 

"  But  why  ?  Any  man  who  knows  what  toil  is 
should  not  regard  women  as  dolls." 

"  I  prefer  to  look  on  them  as  goddesses." 

Helen  smiled.  "  I  fear,  then,  you  will  deem  my 
pedestal  a  sorry  one,"  she  said.  "  Perhaps  you 
think,  because  you  met  me  once  in  Miss  Jaques's 
company,  and  again  here,  traveling  de  luxe,  that 
I  am  in  her  set.  I  am  not.  By  courtesy  I  am  called 
a  *  secretary  ' ;  but  the  title  might  be  shortened  into 
*  typist.'  I  help  Professor  von  Eulenberg  with  his — 
scientific  researches." 

Though  it  was  on  the  tip  of  her  tongue  to  say 
"  beetles,"  she  substituted  the  more  dignified  phrase. 

49 


Bower  was  very  nice  and  kind;  but  she  felt  that 
"  beetles  "  might  sound  somewhat  flippant  and  lend 
a  too  familiar  tone  to  their  conversation. 

"  Von  Eulenberg?  I  have  heard  of  him.  Quite  a 
distinguished  man  in  his  own  line;  an  authority  on — 
moths,  is  it?  " 

"  Insects  generally." 

She  blushed  and  laughed  outright,  not  only  at  the 
boomerang  effect  of  her  grandiloquent  description 
of  the  professor's  industry,  but  at  the  absurdity  of 
her  position.  Above  all  else,  Helen  was  candid,  and 
there  was  no  reason  why  she  should  not  enlighten  a 
comparative  stranger  who  seemed  to  take  a  friendly 
interest  in  her. 

"  I  ought  to  explain,"  she  went  on,  "  that  I  am 
going  to  the  Engadine  as  a  journalist.  I  have  had 
the  good  fortune  to  be  chosen  for  a  very  pleasant 
task.  Hence  this  present  grandeur,  which,  I  assure 
you,  is  not  a  usual  condition  of  entomological  secre- 
taries." 

Bower  pretended  to  ward  off  some  unexpected 
attack.  "  I  have  done  nothing  to  deserve  a  hard 
word  like  that,  Miss  Wynton,"  he  cried.  "  I  shall 
not  recover  till  we  reach  Calais.  May  I  sit  beside 
you  while  you  tell  me  what  it  means  ?  " 

She  made  room  for  him.  "  Strictly  speaking,  it  is 
nonsense,"  she  said. 

"  Excellent.  That  is  the  better  line  for  women 
who  are  young  and  pretty.  We  jaded  men  of  the 
world  hate  to  be  serious  when  we  leave  business  be- 

50 


BECOME  BETTER  ACQUAINTED 

hind.  Now,  you  would  scarce  credit  what  a  lively 
youngster  I  am  when  I  come  abroad  for  a  holiday. 
I  always  kiss  my  fingers  to  France  at  the  first  sight 
of.  her  fair  face.  She  bubbles  like  her  own  cham- 
pagne, whereas  London  invariably  reminds  me  of 
beer." 

"  Do  I  take  it  that  you  prefer  gas  to  froth?  " 

"  You  offer  me  difficult  alternatives,  yet  I  accept 
them.  Though  gas  is  as  dreadful  a  description  of 
champagne  as  entomological  is  of  a  certain  type  of 
secretary,  I  would  venture  to  point  out  that  it  ex- 
pands, effervesces,  soars  ever  to  greater  heights ; 
but  beer,  froth  and  all,  tends  to  become  flat,  stale, 
and  unprofitable." 

"  I  assure  you  my  knowledge  of  both  is  limited. 
I  had  never  even  tasted  champagne  until  the  other 
day." 

"  When  you  lunched  with  Millicent  at  the  Em- 
bankment Hotel?  " 

"  Well — yes.  She  was  at  school  with  me,  and  we 
met  last  week  by  accident.  She  is  making  quite  a 
success  at  the  Wellington  Theater,  is  she  not ?  " 

"  So  I  hear.  I  am  a  director  of  that  concern ; 
but  I  seldom  go  there." 

"  How  odd  that  sounds  to  one  who  saves  up  her 
pennies  to  attend  a  favorite  play ! " 

"  Then  you  must  have  my  address,  and  when  I  am 
in  town  you  need  never  want  a  stall  at  any  theater 
in  London.  Now,  that  is  no  idle  promise.  I  mean 
it.  Nothing  would  give  me  greater  pleasure  than 

51 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

to  think  you  were  enjoying  something  through  my 
instrumentality." 

"  How  exceedingly  kind  of  you !  I  shall  take  you 
at  your  word.  What  girl  wouldn't?" 

"  I  know  quite  a  number  who  regard  me  as  an 
ogre.  I  am  not  a  lady's  man  in  the  general  sense 
of  the  term,  Miss  Wynton.  I  might  tell  you  more 
about  myself  if  it  were  not  for  signs  that  the  next 
five  minutes  will  bring  us  to  Calais.  You  are  far 
too  independent,  I  suppose,  that  I  should  offer  to 
carry  your  bag;  but  will  you  allow  me  to  reserve 
a  joint  table  for  dejeuner?  There  will  be  a  rush  for 
the  first  service,  which  is  the  best,  as  a  rule,  and  I 
have  friends  at  court  on  this  line.  Please  don't  say 
you  are  not  hungry." 

"  That  would  be  impolite,  and  horribly  untrue," 
laughed  Helen. 

He  took  the  implied  permission,  and  hurried  away. 
They  did  not  meet  again  until  he  came  to  her  car- 
riage in  the  train. 

"  Is  this  where  you  are  ?  "  he  cried,  looking  up 
at  her  through  the  open  window.  "  I  am  in  the 
next  block,  as  they  say  in  America.  When  you  are 
ready  I  shall  take  you  to  the  dining  car.  Come  out 
on  the  platform.  The  corridors  are  simply  impass- 
able. And  here  are  baskets  of  peaches,  and  ripe 
pears,  and  all  manner  of  pleasant  fruits.  Yes,  try 
the  corridor  to  the  right,  and  charge  resolutely.  If 
you  inflict  the  maximum  injury  on  others,  you  seldom 
damage  yourself." 

52 


BECOME  BETTER  ACQUAINTED 

In  a  word,  Mark  Bower  spoke  as  lightheartedly 
as  he  professed  to  feel,  and  Helen  had  no  cause  what- 
ever to  be  other  than  thankful  for  the  chance  that 
brought  him  to  Switzerland  on  the  same  day  and  in 
the  same  train  as  herself.  His  delicate  consideration 
for  her  well  being  was  manifested  in  many  ways. 
That  such  a  man,  whom  she  knew  to  be  a  figure  of 
importance  in  the  financial  world,  should  take  an  in- 
terest in  the  simple  chronicles  of  her  past  life  was  a 
flattering  thing  in  itself.  He  listened  sympathetically 
to  the  story  of  her  struggles  since  the  death  of  her 
mother.  The  consequent  stoppage  of  the  annuity 
paid  to  the  widow  of  an  Indian  civilian  rendered  it 
necessary  that  Helen  should  supplement  by  her  own 
efforts  the  fifty  pounds  a  year  allotted  to  her  "  until 
death  or  marriage." 

"  There  are  plenty  of  country  districts  where  I 
could  exist  quite  easily  on  such  a  sum,"  she  said; 
"  but  I  declined  to  be  buried  alive  in  that  fashion, 
and  I  made  up  my  mind  to  earn  my  own  living. 
Somehow,  London  appeals  to  young  people  situated 
as  I  was.  It  is  there  that  the  great  prizes  are  to  be 
gained;  so  I  came  to  London." 

"  From "  broke  in  Bower,  who  was  peeling  one 

of  the  peaches  bought  at  Calais. 

"  From  a  village  near  Sheringham,  in  Nor- 
folk." 

He  nodded  with  smiling  comprehension  when  she 
detailed  her  struggles  with  editors  who  could  detect 
no  originality  in  her  literary  work. 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

"  But  that  phase  has  passed  now,"  he  said  en- 
couragingly. 

"  Well,  it  looks  like  it.  I  hope  so ;  for  I  am  tired 
of  classifying  beetles." 

There — the  word  was  out  at  last.  Perhaps  Bower 
wondered  why  she  laughed  and  blushed  at  the  recol- 
lection of  her  earlier  determination  to  suppress  von 
Eulenberg's  "  specimens  "  as  a  topic  of  conversation. 
Already  the  stiffness  of  their  talk  on  board  the 
steamship  seemed  to  have  vanished  completely.  It 
was  really  a  pleasant  way  of  passing  the  time  to  sit 
and  chat  in  this  glass  palace  while  the  train  skimmed 
over  a  dull  land  of  marshes  and  poplars. 

"  Beetles,  though  apt  to  be  flighty,  are  otherwise 
dull  creatures,"  he  said.  "  May  I  ask  what  paper 
you  are  representing  on  your  present  tour?  " 

It  was  an  obvious  and  harmless  question ;  but 
Helen  was  loyal  to  her  bond.  "  It  sounds  absurd 
to  have  to  say  it,  but  I  am  pledged  to  secrecy,"  she 
answered. 

"  Good  gracious !  Don't  tell  me  you  intend  to 
interview  anarchists,  or  runaway  queens,  or  the  other 
disgruntled  people  who  live  in  Switzerland.  More- 
over, they  usually  find  quarters  in  Geneva,  while 
you  presumably  are  bound  for  the  Engadine." 

"  Oh,  no.  My  work  lies  in  less  excitable  circles. 
1  Life  in  a  Swiss  hotel '  would  be  nearer  the  mark." 

"  Apart  from  the  unusual  surroundings,  you  will 
find  it  suspiciously  like  life  in  a  quiet  Norfolk  village, 
Miss  Wynton,"  said  Bower.  He  paused,  tasted  the 

54 


BECOME  BETTER  ACQUAINTED 

peach,  and  made  a  grimace.  "  Sour !  "  he  protested. 
"  Really,  when  all  is  said  and  done,  the  only 
place  in  which  one  can  buy  a  decent  peach  is 
London." 

"  Ah,  a  distinct  score  for  Britain !  " 

"  And  a  fair  hit  to  your  credit.  Let  me  urge  in 
self  defense  that  if  life  in  France  bubbles,  it  occa- 
sionally leaves  a  bitter  taste  in  the  mouth.  Now  you 
shall  go  and  read,  and  sleep  a  little  perhaps,  if  that 
is  not  a  heretical  thing  to  suggest.  We  have  the 
same  table  for  afternoon  tea  and  dinner." 

Helen  had  never  met  such  a  versatile  man.  He 
talked  of  most  things  with  knowledge  and  restraint 
and  some  humor.  She  could  not  help  admitting  that 
the  journey  would  have  been  exceedingly  dull  with- 
out his  companionship,  and  he  had  the  tact  to  make 
her  feel  that  he  was  equally  indebted  to  her  for  pass- 
ing the  long  hours.  At  dinner  she  noticed  that  they 
were  served  with  dishes  not  supplied  to  others  in 
the  dining  car. 

"  I  hope  you  have  not  been  ordering  a  dreadfully 
expensive  meal,"  she  ventured  to  say.  "  I  must  pay 
my  share,  you  know,  and  I  am  quite  an  economical 
person." 

"There!"  he  vowed.  "That  is  the  first  unkind 
word  you  have  uttered.  Surely  you  will  not  refuse 
to  be  my  guest?  Indeed,  I  was  hoping  that  to-day 
marked  the  beginning  of  a  new  era,  wherein  we  might 
meet  at  times  and  criticize  humanity  to  our  hearts' 
content." 

55 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

"  I  should  feel  unhappy  if  I  did  not  pay,"  she 
insisted. 

"  Well,  then,  I  shall  charge  you  table  d'hote 
prices.  Will  that  content  you?" 

So,  when  the  attendant  came  to  the  other  tables, 
Helen  produced  her  purse,  and  Bower  solemnly 
accepted  her  few  francs ;  but  no  bill  was  presented  to 
him. 

"  You  see,"  he  said,  smiling  at  her  through  a  glass 
of  golden  wine,  "  you  have  missed  a  great  oppor- 
tunity. Not  one  woman  in  a  million  can  say  that 
she  has  dined  at  the  railway  company's  expense  in 
France." 

She  was  puzzled.  His  manner  had  become  slightly 
more  confidential  during  the  meal.  It  needed  no 
feminine  intuition  to  realize  that  he  admired  her. 
Excitement,  the  sea  air,  the  heated  atmosphere,  and 
unceasing  onrush  of  the  train,  had  flushed  her  cheeks 
and  lent  a  deeper  shade  to  her  brown  eyes.  She  knew 
that  Bower's  was  not  the  only  glance  that  dwelt  on 
her  with  a  curious  and  somewhat  unnerving  appraise- 
ment. Other  men,  and  not  a  few  women,  stared  at 
her.  The  mirror  in  her  dressing  room  had  told  her 
that  she  was  looking  her  best,  and  her  heart  fluttered 
a  little  at  the  thought  that  she  had  succeeded,  with- 
out effort,  in  winning  the  appreciation  of  a  man 
highly  placed  in  the  world  of  fashion  and  finance. 
The  conceit  induced  an  odd  feeling  of  embarrass- 
ment. To  dispel  it  she  took  up  his  words  in  a  vein 
of  playful  sarcasm. 

56 


BECOME  BETTER  ACQUAINTED 

"  If  you  assure  me  that  for  some  unexplained 
reason  the  railway  authorities  are  giving  us  this 
excellent  dinner  for  nothing,  please  return  my 
money,"  she  said. 

"  The  gifts  of  the  gods,  and  eke  of  railway  com- 
panies, must  be  taken  without  question,"  he  answered. 
"  No,  I  shall  keep  your  pieces  of  silver.  I  mean  to 
invest  them.  It  will  amuse  me  to  learn  how  much  I 
can  make  on  an  initial  capital  of  twelve  francs,  fifty 
centimes.  Will  you  allow  that?  I  shall  be  scrupu- 
lously accurate,  and  submit  an  audited  account  at 
Christmas.  Even  my  worst  enemies  have  never 
alleged  dishonesty  against  me.  Is  it  a  bargain  ?  " 

"  Y — yes,"  she  stammered  confusedly,  hardly 
knowing  what  he  meant.  He  was  leaning  over  the 
small  table  and  looking  steadfastly  at  her.  She 
noticed  that  the  wine  and  food  had  made  his  skin 
greasy.  It  suddenly  occurred  to  her  that  Mark 
Bower  resembled  certain  exotic  plants  which  must 
be  viewed  from  a  distance  if  they  would  gratify  the 
critical  senses.  The  gloss  of  a  careful  toilet  was 
gone.  He  was  altogether  cruder,  coarser,  more 
animal,  since  he  had  eaten,  though  his  consumption 
of  wine  was  quite  moderate.  His  big,  rather  fierce 
eyes  were  more  than  prominent  now;  they  bulged. 
Certain  Jewish  characteristics  in  his  face  had 
become  accentuated.  She  remembered  the  ancient 
habit  of  anointing  with  oil,  and  laughed  at  the 
thought,  for  that  was  a  little  trick  of  hers  to  conceal 
nervousness. 

57 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

"  You  doubt  me,  then  ?  "  he  half  whispered.  "  Or 
do  you  deem  it  beyond  the  power  of  finance  to  con- 
vert so  small  a  sum  into  hundreds — it  may  be  thou- 
sands— of  pounds  in  six  months  ?  " 

"  Indeed  I  should  credit  you  with  ability  to  do  that 
and  more,  Mr.  Bower,"  she  said ;  "  but  I  was  wonder- 
ing why  you  made  such  an  offer  to  a  mere  acquaint- 
ance,— one  whom  it  is  more  than  likely  you  will  never 
meet  again." 

The  phrase  had  a  harsh  and  awkward  sound  in 
her  ears.  Bower,  to  her  relief,  seemed  to  ig- 
nore it. 

"  It  is  permissible  to  gratify  an  impulse  once  in 
awhile,"  he  countered.  "  And  not  to  mention  the 
audited  accounts,  there  was  a  matter  of  theater 
tickets  that  should  serve  to  bring  us  together  again. 
Won't  you  give  me  your  address,  in  London  if  not 
in  Switzerland?  Here  is  mine." 

He  produced  a  pocketbook,  and  picked  out  a  card. 
It  bore  his  name  and  his  club.  He  added,  in  pencil, 
"  50  Hamilton  Place." 

"  Letters  sent  to  my  house  reach  me,  no  matter 
where  I  may  happen  to  be,"  he  said. 

The  incident  brought  fresh  tremors  to  Helen.  In- 
deed, the  penciled  address  came  as  an  unpleasant 
shock;  for  Millicent  Jaques,  on  the  day  they  met  in 
Piccadilly,  having  gone  home  with  Helen  to  tea,  ex- 
cused an  early  departure  on  the  ground  that  she  was 
due  to  dinner  at  that  very  house. 

But  she  took  the  card,  and  strove  desperately  to 
58 


BECOME  BETTER  ACQUAINTED 

appear  at  ease,  for  she  had  no  cause  to  quarrel  with 
one  whose  manners  were  so  courteous. 

"  Thank  you  very  much,"  she  said.  "  If  you  care 
to  see  my  articles  in  the — in  the  paper,  I  shall  send 
you  copies.  Now  I  must  say  good  by.  I  am  rather 
tired.  Before  I  go  let  me  say  how  deeply  indebted  I 
feel  for  your  kindness  to-day." 

She  rose.  Bower  stood  up  too,  and  bowed  with 
smiling  deference.  "  Good  night,"  he  said.  "  You 
will  not  be  disturbed  by  the  customs  people  at  the 
frontier.  I  have  arranged  all  that." 

Helen  made  the  best  of  her  way  along  the  swaying 
corridors  till  she  reached  her  section  of  the  sleeping 
car;  but  Bower  resumed  his  seat  at  the  table.  He 
ordered  a  glass  of  fine  champagne  and  held  it  up  to 
the  light.  There  was  a  decided  frown  on  his  strong 
face,  and  the  attendant  who  served  him  imagined 
that  there  was  something  wrong  with  the  liqueur. 

"  West-ce  pas  bon,  m'sieur?  "  he  began. 

"  Will  you  go  to  the  devil?  "  said  Bower,  speaking 
very  slowly  without  looking  at  him. 

"  Out,  m'sieur,  Je  vous  assure,"  and  the  man  dis- 
appeared. 

It  was  not  the  wine,  but  the  woman,  that  was 
perplexing  him.  Not  often  had  the  lure  of  gold 
failed  so  signally.  And  why  was  she  so  manifestly 
startled  at  the  last  moment?  Had  he  gone  too  far? 
Was  he  mistaken  in  the  assumption  that  Millicent 
Jaques  had  said  little  or  nothing  concerning  him 
to  her  friend  ?  And  this  commission  too, — there  were 

59 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

inexplicable  features  about  it.  He  knew  a  great  deal 
of  the  ways  of  newspapers,  daily  and  weekly,  and  it 
was  not  the  journalistic  habit  to  send  inexperienced 
young  women  on  costly  journeys  to  write  up  Swiss 
summer  resorts. 

He  frowned  still  more  deeply  as  he  thought  of  the 
Maloja-Kulm  Hotel,  for  Helen  had  innocently 
affixed  a  label  bearing  her  address  on  her  handbag. 
He  peopled  it  with  dozens  of  smart  young  men  and 
not  a  few  older  beaux  of  his  own  type.  His  features 
relaxed  somewhat  when  he  remembered  the  women. 
Helen  was  alone,  and  far  too  good-looking  to  com- 
mand sympathy.  There  should  be  the  elements  of 
trouble  in  that  quarter.  If  he  played  his  cards  well, 
and  he  had  no  reason  to  doubt  his  skill,  Helen  should 
greet  him  as  her  best  friend  when  he  surprised  her 
by  appearing  unexpectedly  at  the  Maloja-Kulm. 

Then  he  waxed  critical.  She  was  young,  and 
lively,  and  unquestionably  pretty ;  but  was  she  worth 
all  this  planning,  and  contriving?  She  was  by  way 
of  being  a  pruofe  too,  and  held  serious  notions  of 
women's  place  in  the  scheme  of  things.  At  any  rate, 
the  day's  hunting  had  not  brought  him  far  out  of 
his  path,  Frankfort  being  his  real  objective,  and  he 
would  make  up  his  mind  later.  Perhaps  she  would 
remove  all  obstacles  by  writing  to  him  on  her  return 
to  London ;  but  the  recollection  of  her  frank,  clear 
gaze,  of  lips  that  were  molded  for  strength  as  well 
as  sweetness,  of  the  dignity  and  grace  with  which 
the  well  shaped  head  was  poised  on  a  white  firm  neck, 

60 


BECOME  BETTER  ACQUAINTED 

warned  him  that  such  a  woman  might  surrender  to 
love,  but  never  to  greed. 

Then  he  laughed,  and  ordered  another  liqueur, 
and  drank  a  toast  to  to-morrow,  when  all  things  come 
to  pass  for  the  man  who  knows  how  to  contrive 
to-day. 

In  the  early  morning,  at  Basle,  he  awoke,  and  was 
somewhat  angry  with  himself  when  he  found  that  his 
thoughts  still  dwelt  on  Helen  Wynton.  In  the  cold 
gray  glimmer  of  dawn,  and  after  the  unpleasant 
shaking  his  pampered  body  had  received  all  night, 
some  of  the  romance  of  this  latest  quest  had  evap- 
orated. He  was  stiff  and  weary,  and  he  regretted 
the  whim  that  had  led  him  a  good  twelve  hours  astray. 
But  he  roused  himself  and  dressed  with  care.  Some 
twenty  minutes  short  of  Zurich  he  sent  an  attendant 
to  Miss  Wynton's  berth  to  inquire  if  she  would  join 
him  for  early  coffee  at  that  station,  there  being  a 
wait  of  a  quarter  of  an  hour  before  the  train  went 
on  to  Coire. 

Helen,  who  was  up  and  dressed,  said  she  would  be 
delighted.  She  too  had  been  thinking,  and,  being 
a  healthy-minded  and  kind-hearted  girl,  had  come 
to  the  conclusion  that  her  abrupt  departure  the 
previous  night  was  wholly  uncalled  for  and  ungra- 
cious. 

So  it  was  with  a  smiling  face  that  she  awaited 
Bower  on  the  steps  of  her  carriage.  She  shook  hands 
with  him  cordially,  did  not  object  in  the  least  degree 
when  he  seized  her  arm  to  pilot  her  through  a  noisy 

61 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

crowd  of  foreigners,  and  laughed  with  utmost  cheer- 
fulness when  they  both  failed  to  drink  some  extraor- 
dinarily hot  coffee  served  in  glasses  that  seemed  to 
be  hotter  still. 

Helen  had  the  rare  distinction  of  being  quite  as 
bright  and  pleasing  to  the  eye  in  the  searching  light 
of  the  sun's  first  rays  as  at  any  other  hour.  Bower, 
though  spruce  and  dandified,  looked  rather  worn. 

"  I  did  not  sleep  well,"  he  explained.  "  And  the 
rails  to  the  frontier  on  this  line  are  the  worst  laid 
in  Europe." 

"  It  is  early  yet,"  she  said.  "  Why  not  turn  in 
again  when  you  reach  your  hotel?  " 

"  Perish  the  thought !  "  he  cried.  "  I  shall  wander 
disconsolate  by  the  side  of  the  lake.  Please  say  you 
will  miss  me  at  breakfast.  And,  by  the  way,  you  will 
find  a  table  specially  set  apart  for  you.  I  suppose 
you  change  at  Coire  ?  " 

"  How  kind  and  thoughtful  you  are.  Yes,  I  am 
going  to  the  Engadine,  you  know." 

"  Well,  give  my  greetings  to  the  high  Alps.  I  have 
climbed  most  of  them  in  my  time.  More  improbable 
things  have  happened  than  that  I  may  renew  the 
acquaintance  with  some  of  my  old  friends  this  year. 
What  fun  if  you  and  I  met  on  the  Matterhorn  or 
Jungfrau!  But  they  are  far  away  from  the  valley 
of  the  inn,  and  perhaps  you  do  not  climb." 

"  I  have  never  had  the  opportunity ;  but  I  mean 
to  try.  Moreover,  it  is  part  of  my  undertaking." 

u  Then  may  we  soon  be  tied  to  the  same  rope ! " 

62 


BECOME  BETTER  ACQUAINTED 

Thus  they  parted,  with  cheery  words,  and,  on 
Helen's  side,  a  genuine  wish  that  they  might  renew 
a  pleasant  acquaintance.  Bower  waited  on  the  plat- 
form to  see  the  last  of  her  as  the  train  steamed 
away. 

"  Yes,  it  is  worth  while,"  he  muttered,  when  the 
white  feathers  on  her  hat  were  no  longer  visible. 
He  did  not  go  to  the  lake,  but  to  the  telegraph  office, 
and  there  he  wrote  two  long  messages,  which  he  re- 
vised carefully,  and  copied.  Yet  he  frowned 
again,  even  while  he  was  paying  for  their  transmis- 
sion. Never  before  had  he  taken  such  pains  to 
win  any  woman's  regard.  And  the  knowledge  vexed 
him,  for  the  taking  of  pains  was  not  his  way  with 
women. 


CHAPTER  IV 


HOW  HELEN   CAME  TO   MAL.OJA 

AT  Coire,  or  Chur,  as  the  three-tongued  Swiss 
often  term  it — German  being  the  language  most  in 
vogue  in  Switzerland — Helen  found  a  cheerful  look- 
ing mountain  train  awaiting  the  coming  of  its  heavy 
brother  from  far  off  Calais.  It  was  soon  packed 
to  the  doors,  for  those  Alpine  valleys  hum  with  life 
and  movement  during  the  closing  days  of  July.  Even 
in  the  first  class  carriages  nearly  every  seat  was 
filled  in  a  few  minutes,  while  pandemonium  reigned 
in  the  cheaper  sections. 

Helen,  having  no  cumbersome  baggage  to  impede 
her  movements,  was  swept  in  on  the  crest  of  the 
earliest  wave,  and  obtained  a  corner  near  the  cor- 
ridor. She  meant  to  leave  her  handbag  there,  stroll 
up  and  down  the  station  for  a  few  minutes,  mainly 
to  look  at  the  cosmopolitan  crowd,  and  perhaps  buy 
some  fruit ;  but  the  babel  of  English,  German,  French, 

64 


HOW  HELEN  CAME  TO  MALOJA 

and  Italian,  mixed  with  scraps  of  Russian  and  Czech, 
that  raged  round  a  distracted  conductor  warned  her 
that  the  wiser  policy  was  to  sit  still. 

An  Englishwoman,  red  faced,  elderly,  and  im- 
portant, was  offered  a  center  seat,  facing  the  engine, 
in  Helen's  compartment.  She  refused  it.  Her  in- 
dignation was  magnificent.  To  face  the  engine,  she 
declared,  meant  instant  illness. 

"  I  never  return  to  this  wretched  country  that  I 
do  not  regret  it !  "  she  shrilled.  "  Have  you  no 
telegraphs?  Cannot  your  officials  ascertain  from 
Zurich  how  many  English  passengers  may  be  ex- 
pected, and  make  suitable  provision  for  them?  " 

As  this  tirade  was  thrown  away  on  the  conductor, 
she  proceeded  to  translate  it  into  fairly  accurate 
French;  but  the  man  was  at  his  wits'  end  to  accom- 
modate the  throng,  and  said  so,  with  the  breathless 
politeness  that  such  a  grande  dame  seamed  to  merit. 

"  Then  you  should  set  apart  a  special  train  for 
passengers  from  England !  "  she  declared  vehemently. 
"  I  shall  never  come  here  again — never !  The  place 
is  overrun  with  cheap  tourists.  Moreover,  I  shall 
tell  all  my  friends  to  avoid  Switzerland.  Perhaps, 
when  British  patronage  is  withdrawn  from  your 
railways  and  hotels,  you  will  begin  to  consider  our 
requirements." 

Helen  felt  that  her  irate  fellow  countrywoman  was 
metaphorically  hurling  large  volumes  of  the  peer- 
age, baronetage,  and  landed  gentry  at  the  unhappy 
conductor's  head.  Again  he  pointed  out  that  there 

65 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

was  a  seat  at  madam's  service.  When  the  train 
started  he  would  do  his  best  to  secure  another  in 
the  desired  position. 

As  the  woman,  whose  proportions  were  generous, 
was  blocking  the  gangway,  she  received  a  forcible 
reminder  from  the  end  of  a  heavy  portmanteau  that 
she  must  clear  out  of  the  way.  Breathing  dire  re- 
prisals on  the  Swiss  federal  railway  system,  she  en- 
tered unwillingly. 

*'  Disgraceful !  "  she  snorted.  "  A  nation  of  boors ! 
In  another  second  I  should  have  been  thrown  down 
and  trampled  on." 

A  stolid  German  and  his  wife  occupied  opposite 
corners,  and  the  man  probably  wondered  why  the 
Englischer  frau  glared  at  him  so  fiercely.  But  he 
did  not  move. 

Helen,  thinking  to  throw  oil  on  the  troubled  waters, 
said  pleasantly,  "  Won't  you  change  seats  with  me  ? 
I  don't  mind  whether  I  face  the  engine  or  not.  In 
any  case,  I  intend  to  stand  in  the  corridor  most  of 
the  time." 

The  stout  woman,  hearing  herself  addressed  in 
English,  lifted  her  mounted  eyeglasses  and  stared  at 
Helen.  In  one  sweeping  glance  she  took  in  details. 
As  it  happened,  the  girl  had  expended  fifteen  of 
her  forty  pounds  on  a  neat  tailor  made  costume,  a 
smart  hat,  well  fitting  gloves,  and  the  best  pair  of 
walking  boots  she  could  buy;  for,  having  pretty 
feet,  it  was  a  pardonable  vanity  that  she  should  wish 
them  well  shod.  Apparently,  the  other  was  satisfied 

66 


HOW  HELEN  CAME  TO  MALOJA 

that  there  would  be  no  loss  of  caste  in  accepting 
the  proffered  civility. 

"  Thank  you.  I  am  very  much  obliged,"  she  said. 
"  It  is  awfully  sweet  of  you  to  incommode  yourself 
for  my  sake." 

It  was  difficult  to  believe  that  the  woman  who  had 
just  stormed  at  the  conductor,  who  had  the  effrontery 
to  subject  Helen  to  that  stony  scrutiny  before  she 
answered,  could  adopt  such  dulcet  tones  so  suddenly. 
Helen,  frank  and  generous-minded  to  a  degree,  would 
have  preferred  a  gradual  subsidence  of  wrath  to 
this  remarkable  volte-face.  But  she  reiterated  that 
she  regarded  her  place  in  a  carriage  as  of  slight 
consequence,  and  the  change  was  effected. 

The  other  adjusted  her  eyeglasses  again,  and 
passed  in  review  the  remaining  occupants  of  the  com- 
partment. They  were  "  foreigners,"  whose  existence 
might  be  ignored. 

"  This  line  grows  worse  each  year,"  she  remarked, 
by  way  of  a  conversational  opening.  "  It  is  horrid 
traveling  alone.  Unfortunately,  I  missed  my  son 
at  Lucerne.  Are  your  people  on  the  train  ?  " 

"  No.    I  too  am  alone." 

"  Ah !    Going  to  St.  Moritz?  " 

"  Yes;  but  I  take  the  diligence  there  for  Maloja." 

"  The  diligence!  Who  in  the  world  advised  that? 
Nobody  ever  travels  that  way." 

By  "  nobody,"  she  clearly  conveyed  the  idea  that 
she  mixed  in  the  sacred  circle  of  "  somebodies,"  car- 
riage folk  to  the  soles  of  their  boots,  because  Helen's 

67 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

guidebook  showed  that  a  diligence  ran  twice  daily 
through  the  Upper  Engadine,  and  the  Swiss  authori- 
ties would  not  provide  those  capacious  four-horsed 
vehicles  unless  there  were  passengers  to  fill  them. 

"Oh!"  cried  Helen.  "Should  I  have  ordered  a 
carriage  beforehand?  " 

"  Most  decidedly.  But  your  friends  will  send  one. 
They  know  you  are  coming  by  this  train  ?  " 

Helen  smiled.  She  anticipated  a  certain  amount 
of  cross  examination  at  the  hands  of  residents  in  the 
hotel;  but  she  saw  no  reason  why  the  ordeal  should 
begin  so  soon. 

**  I  must  take  my  luck  then,"  she  said.  "  There 
ought  to  be  plenty  of  carriages  at  St.  Moritz." 

Without  being  positively  rude,  her  new  acquaint- 
ance could  not  repeat  the  question  thus  shirked.  But 
she  had  other  shafts  in  her  quiver. 

"You  will  stay  at  the  Kursaal,  of  course?"  she 
said. 

"  Yes." 

**  A  passing  visit,  or  for  a  period?  I  ask  because 
I  am  going  there  myself." 

"  Oh,  how  nice !  I  am  glad  I  have  met  you.  I 
mean  to  remain  at  Maloja  until  the  end  of  August." 

"  Quite  the  right  time.  The  rest  of  Switzerland 
is  unbearable  in  August.  You  will  find'  the  hotel 
rather  full.  The  Burnham-Joneses  are  there, — the 
tennis  players,  you  know, — and  General  and  Mrs. 
Wragg  and  their  family,  and  the  de  la  Veres,  nomi- 
nally husband  and  wife, — a  most  charming  couple 

68 


HOW  HELEN  CAME  TO  MALOJA 

individually.  Have  you  met  the  de  la  Veres?  No? 
Well,  don't  be  unhappy  on  Edith's  account  if  Regi- 
nald flirts  with  you.  She  likes  it." 

"  But  perhaps  I  might  not  like  it,"  laughed 
Helen. 

"  Ah,  Reginald  has  such  fascinating  manners ! " 
A  sigh  seemed  to  deplore  the  days  of  long  ago,  when 
Reginald's  fascination  might  have  displayed  itself 
on  her  account. 

Again  there  was  a  break  in  the  flow  of  talk,  and 
Helen  began  to  take  an  interest  in  the  scenery.  Not 
to  be  balked,  her  inquisitor  searched  in  a  portmonnaie 
attached  to  her  left  wrist  with  a  strap,  and  pro- 
duced a  card. 

"  We  may  as  well  know  each  other's  names,"  she 
cooed  affably.  "  Here  is  my  card." 

Helen  read,  "  Mrs.  H.  de  Courcy  Vavasour,  Villa 
Menini,  Nice." 

"  I  am  sorry,"  she  said,  with  a  friendly  amile 
that  might  have  disarmed  prejudice,  "  but  in  the 
hurry  of  my  departure  from  London  I  packed  my 
cards  in  my  registered  baggage.  My  name  is  Helen 
Wynton." 

The  eyeglasses  went  up  once  more. 

"  Do  you  spell  it  with  an  I?  Are  you  one  of  the 
Gloucestershire  Wintons  ?  " 

"  No.    I  live  in  town ;  but  my  home  is  in  Norfolk." 

"  And  whose  party  will  you  join  at  the  Maloja?  " 

Helen  colored  a  little  under  this  rigorous  heckling. 
"  As  I  have  already  told  you,  Mrs.  Vavasour,  I  am 

69 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

alone,"  she  said.  "  Indeed,  I  have  come  here  to — to 
do  some  literary  work." 

"  For  a  newspaper?  " 

"  Yes." 

Mrs.  Vavasour  received  this  statement  guardedly. 
If  Helen  was  on  the  staff  of  an  important  journal 
there  was  something  to  be  gained  by  being  cited  in 
her  articles  as  one  of  the  important  persons  "  so- 
journing "  in  the  Engadine. 

"  It  is  really  wonderful,"  she  admitted,  "  how  en- 
terprising the  great  daily  papers  are  nowadays." 

Helen,  very  new  to  a  world  of  de  Courcy  Vava- 
sours, and  Wraggs,  and  Burnham-Joneses,  forgave 
this  hawklike  pertinacity  for  sake  of  the  apparent 
sympathy  of  her  catechist.  And  she  was  painfully 
candid. 

"  The  weekly  paper  I  represent  is  not  at  all  well 
known,"  she  explained ;  "  but  here  I  am,  and  I  mean 
to  enjoy  my  visit  hugely.  It  is  the  chance  of  a  life- 
time to  be  sent  abroad  on  such  a  mission.  I  little 
dreamed  a  week  since  that  I  should  be  able  to  visit 
this  beautiful  country  under  the  best  conditions  with- 
out giving  a  thought  to  the  cost." 

Poor  Helen!  Had  she  delved  in  many  volumes  to 
obtain  material  that  would  condemn  her  in  the  eyes 
of  the  tuft  hunter  she  was  addressing,  she  could  not 
have  shocked  so  many  conventions  in  so  few  words. 
She  was  poor,  unknown,  unfriended!  Worse  than 
these  negative  defects,  she  was  positively  attractive! 
Mrs.  Vavasour  almost  shuddered  as  she  thought  of 

70 


HOW  HELEN  CAME  TO  MALOJA 

the  son  "  missed "  at  Lucerne,  the  son  who  would 
arrive  at  Maloja  on  the  morrow,  in  the  company  of 
someone  whom  he  preferred  to  his  mother  as  a  fellow 
traveler.  What  a  pitfall  she  had  escaped!  She 
might  have  made  a  friend  of  this  impossible  person! 
Nevertheless,  rendered  wary  by  many  social  skir- 
mishes, she  did  not  declare  war  at  once.  The  girl 
was  too  outspoken  to  be  an  adventuress.  She  must 
wait,  and  watch,  and  furbish  her  weapons. 

Helen,  whose  brain  was  nimble  enough  to  take 
in  some  of  Mrs.  Vavasour's  limitations,  hoped  that 
the  preliminary  inquiry  into  her  caste  was  ended. 
She  went  into  the  corridor.  A  man  made  room  for 
her  with  an  alacrity  that  threatened  an  attempt  to 
draw  her  into  conversation,  so  she  moved  somewhat 
farther  away,  and  gave  herself  to  thought.  If  this 
prying  woman  was  a  fair  sample  of  the  people  in  the 
hotel,  it  was  obvious  that  the  human  element  in  the 
high  Alps  held  a  suspicious  resemblance  to  society  in 
Bayswater,  where  each  street  is  a  faction  and  the 
clique  in  the  "  Terrace "  is  not  on  speaking  terms 
with  the  clique  in  the  "  Gardens."  Thus  far,  she 
owned  to  a  feeling  of  disillusionment  in  many 
respects. 

Two  years  earlier,  a  naturalist  in  the  Highlands 
had  engaged  von  Eulenberg  to  classify  his  collec- 
tion, and  Helen  had  gone  to  Inverness  with  the  pro- 
fessor's family.  She  saw  something  then  of  the 
glories  of  Scotland,  and  her  memories  of  the  purple 
hills,  the  silvery  lakes,  the  joyous  burns  tumbling 

71 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

headlong  through  woodland  and  pasture,  were  not 
dimmed  by  the  dusty  garishness  of  the  Swiss  scenery. 
True,  Baedeker  said  that  these  pent  valleys  were 
suffocating  in  midsummer.  She  could  only  await 
in  diminished  confidence  her  first  glimpse  of  the 
eternal  snows. 

And  again,  the  holiday  makers  were  not  the  blithe- 
some creatures  of  her  imagination.  Some  were  read- 
ing, many  sleeping,  and  the  rest,  for  the  most  part, 
talking  in  strange  tongues  of  anything  but  the 
beauties  of  the  landscape.  The  Britons  among  them 
seemed  to  be  brooding  on  glaciers.  A  party  of  lively 
Americans  were  playing  bridge,  and  a  scrap  of  gossip 
in  English  from  a  neighboring  compartment  revealed 
that  some  woman  who  went  to  a  dance  at  Montreux, 
*'  wore  a  cheap  voile,  my  dear,  a  last  year's  bargain, 
all  crumpled  and  dirty.  You  never  saw  such  a 
fright!" 

These  things  were  trivial  and  commonplace;  a 
wide  gap  opened  between  them  and  Helen's  day 
dreams  of  Alpine  travel.  By  natural  sequence  of 
ideas  she  began  to  contrast  her  present  loneliness 
with  yesterday's  pleasant  journey,  and  the  outcome 
was  eminently  favorable  to  Mark  Bower.  She  missed 
him.  She  was  quite  sure,  had  he  accompanied  her 
from  Zurich,  that  he  would  have  charmed  away  the 
dull  hours  with  amusing  anecdotes.  Instead  of  feel- 
ing rather  tired  and  sleepy,  she  would  now  be  listen- 
ing to  his  apt  expositions  of  the  habits  and  customs 
of  the  places  and  people  seen  from  the  carriage  win- 

72 


HOW  HELEN  CAME  TO  MALOJA 

dows.  For  fully  five  minutes  her  expressive  mouth 
betrayed  a  little  moue  of  disappointment. 

And  then  the  train  climbed  a  long  spiral  which 
gave  a  series  of  delightful  views  of  a  picturesque 
Swiss  village, — exactly  such  a  cluster  of  low  roofed 
houses  as  she  had  admired  many  a  time  in  photo- 
graphs of  Alpine  scenery.  An  exclamation  from  a 
little  boy  who  clapped  his  hands  in  ecstasy  caused 
her  to  look  through  a  cleft  in  the  nearer  hills.  With 
a  thrill  of  wonder  she  discovered  there,  remote  and 
solitary,  all  garbed  in  shining  white,  a  majestic  snow 
capped  mountain.  Ah !  this  was  the  real  Switzerland ! 
Her  heart  throbbed,  and  her  breath  came  in  flutter- 
ing gasps  of  excitement.  How  mean  and  trivial 
were  class  distinctions  in  sight  of  nature's  no- 
bility !  She  was  uplifted,  inspirited,  filled  with  a 
sedate  happiness.  She  wanted  to  voice  her  gladness 
as  the  child  had  done.  A  high  pitched  female  voice 
said: 

"  Of  course  I  had  to  call,  because  Jack  meets  her 
husband  in  the  city ;  but  it  is  an  awful  bore  knowing 
such  people." 

Then  the  train  plunged  into  a  noisome  tunnel,  and 
turned  a  complete  circle  in  the  heart  of  the  rock,  and 
when  it  panted  into  daylight  again  the  tall  square 
tower  of  the  village  church  had  sunk  more  deeply 
into  the  valley.  Far  beneath,  two  bright  steel  rib- 
bons— swallowed  by  a  cavernous  mouth  that  belched 
clouds  of  dense  smoke — showed  the  strangeness  of 
the  route  that  led  to  the  silent  peaks.  At  times  the 

73 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

rails  crossed  or  ran  by  the  side  of  a  white,  tree  lined 
track  that  mounted  ever  upward.  Though  she  could 
not  recall  the  name  of  the  pass,  Helen  was  aware  that 
this  was  one  of  the  fine  mountain  roads  for  which 
Switzerland  is  famous.  Pedestrians,  singly  or  in 
small  parties,  were  trudging  along  sturdily.  They 
seemed  to  be  mostly  German  tourists,  jolly,  well  fed 
folk,  nearly  as  many  women  as  men,  each  one  carry- 
ing a  rucksack  and  alpenstock,  and  evidently  deter- 
mined to  cover  a  set  number  of  kilometers  before 
night. 

"  That  is  the  way  in  which  I  should  like  to  see 
the  Alps,"  thought  Helen.  "  I  am  sure  they  sing 
as  they  walk,  and  they  miss  nothing  of  the  grandeur 
and  exquisite  coloring  of  the  hills.  A  train  is  very 
comfortable;  but  it  certainly  brings  to  these  quiet 
valleys  a  great  many  people  who  would  otherwise 
never  come  near  them." 

The  force  of  this  trite  reflection  was  borne  in  on 
her  by  a  loud  wrangle  between  the  bridge  players. 
A  woman  had  revoked,  and  was  quite  wroth  with  the 
.A"«(U  who  detected  her  mistake. 

At  the  next  stopping  place  Helen  bought  some 
chocolates,  and  made  a  friend  of  the  boy,  a  tiny 
Parisian.  The  two  found  amusement  in  searching 
for  patches  of  snow  on  the  northerly  sides  of  the 
nearest  hills.  Once  they  caught  a  glimpse  of  a 
whole  snowy  range,  and  they  shrieked  so  enthusias- 
tically that  the  woman  whose  husband  was  also 
in  the  city  glanced  at  them  with  disapproval,  as 

74, 


HOW  HELEN  CAME  TO  MALOJA 

they  interrupted  a  full  and  particular  if  not  true 
account  of  the  quarrel  between  the  Firs  and  the 
Limes. 

At  last  the  panting  engine  gathered  speed  and 
rushed  along  a  wide  valley  into  Samaden,  Celerina, 
and  St  Moritz.  Mrs.  Vavasour  seemed  to  be  ab- 
sorbed in  a  Tauchnitz  novel  till  the  last  moment,  and 
the  next  sight  of  her  vouchsafed  to  Helen  was  her 
departure  from  the  terminus  in  solitary  state  in  a 
pair-horse  victoria.  It  savored  somewhat  of  unkind- 
ness  that  she  had  not  offered  to  share  the  roomy 
vehicle  with  one  who  had  befriended  her. 

"  Perhaps  she  was  afraid  I  might  not  pay  my  share 
of  the  hire,"  said  Helen  to  herself  rather  indignantly. 
But  a  civil  hotel  porter  helped  her  to  clear  the  cus- 
toms shed  rapidly,  secured  a  comfortable  carriage, 
advised  her  confidentially  as  to  the  amount  that 
should  be  paid,  and  promised  to  telephone  to  the 
hotel  for  a  suitable  room.  She  was  surprised  to  find 
how  many  of  her  fellow  passengers  were  bound  for 
Maloja.  Some  she  had  encountered  at  various  stages 
of  the  journey  all  the  way  from  London,  while  many, 
like  Mrs.  Vavasour,  had  joined  the  train  in  Switzer- 
land. She  remembered  too,  with  a  quiet  humor  that 
had  in  it  a  spice  of  sarcasm,  that  her  elderly  ac- 
quaintance had  not  come  from  England,  and  had  no 
more  right  to  demand  special  accommodation  at 
Coire  than  the  dozens  of  other  travelers  who  put  in 
an  appearance  at  each  station  after  Basle. 

She  noticed  that  as  soon  as  the  luggage  was  handed 
75 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

to  the  driver  to  be  strapped  behind  each  vehicle,  the 
newcomers  nearly  all  went  to  a  neighboring  hotel  for 
luncheon.  Being  a  healthy  young  person,  and  en- 
dowed with  a  sound  digestion,  Helen  deemed  this 
example  too  good  not  to  be  followed.  Then  she 
began  a  two  hours'  drive  through  a  valley  that  al- 
most shook  her  allegiance  to  Scotland.  The  driver, 
a  fine  looking  old  man,  with  massive  features  and 
curling  gray  hair  that  reminded  her  of  Michelan- 
gelo's head  of  Moses,  knowing  the  nationality  of  his 
fare,  resolutely  refused  to  speak  any  other  language 
than  English.  He  would  jerk  round,  flourish  his 
whip,  and  cry: 

"  Dissa  pless  St.  Moritz  Bad ;  datta  pless  St. 
Moritz  Dorp." 

Soon  he  announced  the  "  Engelish  kirch,"  thereby 
meaning  the  round  arched  English  church  overlook- 
ing the  lake;  or  it  might  be,  with  a  loftier  sweep  of 
the  whip,  "  Piz  Julier  montin,  mit  lek  Silvaplaner 
See." 

All  this  Helen  could  have  told  him  with  equal 
accuracy  and  even  greater  detail.  Had  she  not 
almost  learned  by  heart  each  line  of  Baedeker  on 
the  Upper  Engadine?  Could  she  not  have  repro- 
duced from  memory  a  fairly  complete  map  of  the 
valley,  with  its  villages,  mountains,  and  lakes  clearly 
marked?  But  she  would  not  on  any  account  re- 
press the  man's  enthusiasm,  and  her  eager  acceptance 
of  his  quaint  information  induced  fresh  efforts,  with 
more  whip  waving. 

76 


HOW  HELEN  CAME  TO  MALOJA 

"  Piz    Corvatsch!      Him  ver'   big   fellow.      TVelf 
t'ousen  foots.     Wen  me  guide  him  bruk  ze  leg." 

She  had  seen  that  he  was  very  lame  as  he  hobbled 
about  the  carriage  tying  up  her  boxes.  So  here  was 
a  real  guide.  That  explained  his  romantic  aspect, 
his  love  of  the  high  places.  And  he  had  been  maimed 
for  life  by  that  magnificent  mountain  whose  scarred 
slopes  were  now  vividly  before  her  eyes.  The  bright 
sunshine  lit  lakes  and  hills  with  its  glory.  A  mar- 
velous atmosphere  made  all  things  visible  with  micro- 
scopic fidelity.  From  Campfer  to  Silvaplana  looked 
to  be  a  ten  minutes'  drive,  and  from  Silvaplana  to 
Sils-Maria  another  quarter  of  an  hour.  Helen  had 
to  consult  her  watch  and  force  herself  to  admit  that 
the  horses  were  trotting  fully  seven  miles  an  hour 
before  she  realized  that  distances  could  be  so  decep- 
tive. The  summit  of  the  lordly  Corvatsch  seemed 
to  be  absurdly  near.  She  judged  it  within  the  scope 
of  an  easy  walk  between  breakfast  and  afternoon 
tea  from  the  hotel  on  a  tree  covered  peninsula  that 
stretched  far  out  into  Lake  Sils-Maria,  and  she  won- 
dered why  anyone  should  fall  and  break  his  leg 
during  such  a  simple  climb.  Just  to  make  sure,  she 
glanced  at  the  guidebook,  and  it  gave  her  a  shock 
when  she  saw  the  words,  "  Guides  necessary  ,"- 
"  Descent  to  Sils  practicable  only  for  experts,"- 
"  Spend  night  at  Roseg  Inn," — the  route  followed 
being  that  from  Pontresina. 

Then   she  recollected  that   the  lovely  valley   she 
was  traversing  from  beginning  to  end  was  itself  six 

77 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

thousand  feet  above  sea  level, — that  the  observatory 
on  rugged  old  Ben  Nevis,  which  she  had  visited  when 
in  Scotland,  was,  metaphorically  speaking,  two  thou- 
sand feet  beneath  the  smooth  road  along  which  she 
was  being  driven,  and  that  the  highest  peak  on 
Corvatsch  was  still  six  thousand  feet  above  her  head. 
All  at  once,  Helen  felt  subdued.  The  fancy  seized 
her  that  the  carriage  was  rumbling  over  the  roof 
of  the  world.  In  a  word,  she  was  yielding  to  the 
exhilaration  of  high  altitudes,  and  her  brain  was 
ready  to  spin  wild  fantasies. 

At  Sils-Maria  she  was  brought  suddenly  to  earth 
again.  It  must  not  be  forgotten  that  her  driver  was 
a  St.  Moritz  man,  and  therefore  at  constant  feud 
with  the  men  from  the  Kursaal,  who  brought  empty 
carriages  to  St.  Moritz,  and  went  back  laden  with 
the  spoil  that  would  otherwise  have  fallen  to  the 
share  of  the  local  livery  stables.  Hence,  he  made  it 
a  point  of  honor  to  pass  every  Maloja  owned  vehicle 
on  the  road.  Six  times  he  succeeded,  but,  on  the 
seventh,  reversing  the  moral  of  Bruce's  spider,  he 
smashed  the  near  hind  wheel  by  attempting  to  slip 
between  a  landau  and  a  stone  post.  Helen  was  almost 
thrown  into  the  lake,  and,  for  the  life  of  her,  she 
could  not  repress  a  scream.  But  the  danger  passed 
as  rapidly  as  it  had  risen,  and  all  that  happened  was 
that  the  carriage  settled  down  lamely  by  the  side 
of  the  road,  with  its  weight  resting  on  one  of  her 
boxes. 

The  driver  spoke  no  more  English.  He  bewailed 
78 


HOW  HELEN  CAME  TO  MALOJA 

his  misfortune  in  free  and  fluent  Italian  of  the 
Romansch  order. 

But  he  understood  German,  and  when  Helen  de- 
manded imperatively  that  he  should  unharness  the 
horses,  and  help  to  prop  the  carriage  off  a  crumpled 
tin  trunk  that  contained  her  best  dresses,  he  recov- 
ered his  senses,  worked  willingly,  and  announced  with 
a  weary  grin  that  if  the  gnddische  fraulein  would 
wait  a  little  half-hour  he  would  obtain  another  wheel 
from  a  neighboring  forge. 

Having  recovered  from  her  fright  she  was  so 
touched  by  the  poor  fellow's  distress  that  she  prom- 
ised readily  to  stand  by  him  until  repairs  were 
effected.  It  was  a  longer  job  than  either  of  them 
anticipated.  The  axle  was  sh'ghtly  bent,  and  a  black- 
smith had  to  bring  clamps  and  a  jackscrew  before 
the  new  wheel  could  be  adjusted.  Even  then  it  had 
an  air  of  uncertainty  that  rendered  speed  impossible. 
The  concluding  five  miles  of  the  journey  were  taken 
at  a  snail's  pace,  and  Helen  reflected  ruefully  that 
it  was  possible  to  "  bruk  ze  leg  "  on  the  level  high 
road  as  well  as  on  the  rocks  of  Corvatsch. 

Of  course,  she  received  offers  of  assistance  in 
plenty.  Every  carriage  that  passed  while  the  black- 
smith was  at  work  pulled  up  and  placed  a  seat  therein 
at  her  command.  But  she  refused  them  all.  It  was 
not  that  she  feared  to  desert  her  baggage,  for  Switzer- 
land is  proverbially  honest.  The  unlucky  driver  had 
tried  to  be  friendly ;  his  fault  was  due  to  an  excess  of 
zeal;  and  each  time  she  declined  the  proffered  help 

79 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

his  furrowed  face  brightened.  If  she  did  not  reach 
the  hotel  until  midnight  she  was  determined  to  go 
there  in  that  vehicle,  and  in  none  other. 

The  accident  threw  her  late,  but  only  by  some 
two  hours.  Instead  of  arriving  at  Maloja  in  brilliant 
sunshine,  it  was  damp  and  chilly  when  she  entered 
the  hotel.  A  bank  of  mist  had  been  carried  over 
the  summit  of  the  pass  by  a  southwesterly  wind. 
Long  before  the  carriage  crawled  round  the  last  great 
bend  in  the  road  the  glorious  panorama  of  lake  and 
mountains  was  blotted  out  of  sight.  The  horses 
seemed  to  be  jogging  on  through  a  luminous  cloud, 
so  dense  that  naught  was  visible  save  a  few  yards  of 
roadway  and  the  boundary  wall  or  stone  posts  on 
the  left  side,  where  lay  the  lake.  The  brightness 
soon  passed,  as  the  hurrying  fog  wraiths  closed  in 
on  each  other.  It  became  bitterly  cold  too,  and  it 
was  with  intense  gladness  that  Helen  finally  stepped 
from  the  outer  gloom  into  a  glass  haven  of  warmth 
and  light  that  formed  a  species  of  covered-in  veranda 
in  front  of  the  hotel. 

She  was  about  to  pay  the  driver,  having  added 
to  the  agreed  sum  half  the  cost  of  the  broken  wheel 
by  way  of  a  solatium,  when  another  carriage  drove 
up  from  the  direction  of  St.  Moritz. 

She  fancied  that  the  occupant,  a  young  man  whom 
she  had  never  seen  before,  glanced  at  her  as  though 
he  knew  her.  She  looked  again  to  ml>ke  sure;  but 
by  that  time  his  eyes  were  turned  away,  so  he  had 
evidently  discovered  his  mistake.  Still,  he  seemed  to 

80 


HOW  HELEN  CAME  TO  MALOJA 

take  considerable  interest  in  her  carriage,  and  Helen, 
ever  ready  to  concede  the  most  generous  interpreta- 
tion of  doubtful  acts,  assumed  that  he  had  heard  of 
the  accident  by  some  means,  and  was  on  the  lookout 
for  her. 

It  would  indeed  have  been  a  fortunate  thing  for 
Helen  had  some  Swiss  fairy  whispered  the  news  of 
her  mishap  in  Spencer's  ears  during  the  long  drive 
up  the  mist  laden  valley.  Then,  at  least,  he  might 
have  spoken  to  her,  and  used  the  informal  introduc- 
tion to  make  her  further  acquaintance  on  the  morrow. 
But  the  knowledge  was  withheld  from  him.  No  hint 
of  it  was  even  flashed  through  space  by  that  wireless 
telegraphy  which  has  existed  between  kin  souls  ever 
since  men  and  women  contrived  to  raise  human  affini- 
ties to  a  plane  not  far  removed  from  the  divine. 

He  had  small  store  of  German,  but  he  knew  enough 
to  be  perplexed  by  the  way  in  which  Helen's  driver 
expressed  "  beautiful  thanks  "  for  her  gift.  The  man 
seemed  to  be  at  once  grateful  and  downhearted.  Of 
course,  the  impression  was  of  the  slightest,  but  Spen- 
cer had  been  trained  in  reaching  vital  conclusions 
on  meager  evidence.  He  could  not  wait  to  listen  to 
Helen's  words,  so  he  passed  into  the  hotel,  having 
the  American  habit  of  leaving  the  care  of  his  baggage 
to  the  hall  porter.  He  wondered  why  Helen  was  so 
late  in  arriving  that  he  had  caught  her  up  on  the 
very  threshol  (o£  the  Kursaal,  so  to  speak.  He 
would  not  forget  the  driver's  face,  and  if  he  met  the 
man  again,  it  might  be  possible  to  find  out  the  cause 

81 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

of  the  delay.  He  himself  was  before  time.  The 
federal  railway  authorities  at  Coire,  awaking  to  the 
fact  that  the  holiday  rush  was  beginning,  had  actu- 
ally dispatched  a  relief  train  to  St.  Moritz  when  the 
second  important  train  of  the  day  turned  up  as  full 
as  its  predecessor. 

At  dinner  Helen  and  he  sat  at  little  tables  in  the 
same  section  of  the  huge  dining  hall.  The  hotel  was 
nearly  full,  and  it  was  noticeable  that  they  were  the 
only  persons  who  dined  alone.  Indeed,  the  head 
waiter  asked  Spencer  if  he  cared  to  join  a  party  of 
men  who  sat  together;  but  he  declined.  There  was 
no  such  general  gathering  of  women;  so  Helen  was 
given  no  alternative,  and  she  ate  the  meal  in  silence. 

She  saw  Mrs.  Vavasour  in  a  remote  part  of  the 
salon.  With  her  was  a  vacuous  looking  young  man 
who  seldom  spoke  to  her  but  was  continually  address- 
ing remarks  to  a  woman  at  another  table. 

"  That  is  the  son  lost  at  Lucerne,"  she  decided, 
finding  in  his  face  some  of  the  physical  traits  but 
none  of  the  calculating  shrewdness  of  his  mother. 

After  a  repast  of  many  courses  Helen  wandered 
into  the  great  hall,  found  an  empty  chair,  and  longed 
for  someone  to  speak  to.  At  the  first  glance,  every- 
body seemed  to  know  everybody  else.  That  was  not 
really  the  case,  of  course.  There  were  others  present 
as  neglected  and  solitary  as  Helen;  but  the  noise 
and  merriment  of  the  greater  number  dominated  the 
place.  It  resembled  a  social  club  rather  than  a  hotel. 

Her  chair  was  placed  in  an  alley  along  which 
82 


HOW  HELEN  CAME  TO  MALOJA 

people  had  to  pass  who  wished  to  reach  the  glass 
covered  veranda.  She  amused  herself  by  trying  to 
pick  out  the  Wraggs,  the  Burnham-Joneses,  and  the 
de  la  Veres.  Suddenly  she  was  aware  that  Mrs. 
Vavasour  and  her  son  were  coming  that  way;  the 
son  unwillingly,  the  mother  with  an  air  of  determina- 
tion. Perhaps  the  Lucerne  episode  was  about  to  be 
explained. 

When  young  Vavasour's  eyes  fell  on  Helen,  the 
boredom  vanished  from  his  face.  It  was  quite  ob- 
vious that  he  called  his  mother's  attention  to  her 
and  asked  who  she  was.  Helen  felt  that  an  intro- 
duction was  imminent.  She  was  glad  of  it.  At  that 
moment  she  would  have  chatted  gayly  with  even  a 
greater  ninny  than  George  de  Courcy  Vavasour. 

But  she  had  not  yet  grasped  the  peculiar  idiosyn- 
crasies of  a  woman  who  was  famous  for  snubbing 
those  whom  she  considered  to  be  "  undesirables." 
Helen  looked  up  with  a  shy  smile,  expecting  that  the 
older  woman  would  stop  and  speak;  but  Mrs.  Vava- 
sour gazed  at  her  blankly — looked  at  the  back  of 
her  chair  through  her  body — and  walked  on. 

"  I  don't  know,  George,"  Helen  heard  her  say. 
"  There  are  a  lot  of  new  arrivals.  Some  person  of 
no  importance,  rather  declassee,  I  should  imagine 
by  appearances.  As  I  was  telling  you,  the  General 
has  arranged " 

Taken  altogether,  Helen  had  crowded  into  por- 
tions of  two  days  many  new  and  some  very  un- 
pleasant experiences. 

83 


CHAPTER  V 


AN  INTERLUDE 

HELEN  rose  betimes  next  morning;  but  she  found 
that  the  sun  had  kept  an  earlier  tryst.  Not  a  cloud 
marred  a  sky  of  dazzling  blue.  The  phantom  mist 
had  gone  ,with  the  shadows.  From  her  bed  room 
window  she  could  see  the  whole  length  of  the  Ober- 
Engadin,  till  the  view  was  abruptly  shut  off  by  the 
giant  shoulders  of  Lagrev  and  Rosatch.  The  bril- 
liance of  the  coloring  was  the  landscape's  most  as- 
tounding1 feature.  The  lakes  were  planes  of  polished 
turquoise,  the  rocks  pure  grays  and  browns  and  reds, 
the  meadows  emerald  green,  while  the  shining  white 
patches  of  snow  on  the  highest  mountain  slopes 
helped  to  blacken  by  contrast  the  somber  clumps 
of  pines  that  gathered  thick  wherever  man  had  not 
disputed  with  the  trees  the  tenancy  of  each  foot  of 
meager  loam. 

This  morning  glory  of  nature  gladdened  the  girl's 

84 


AN  INTERLUDE 

heart  and  drove  from  it  the  overnight  vapors.  She 
dressed  hurriedly,  made  a  light  breakfast,  and  went 
out. 

There  was  no  need  to  ask  the  way.  In  front  of 
the  hotel  the  narrow  Silser  See  filled  the  valley.  Close 
behind  lay  the  crest  of  the  pass.  A  picturesque 
chateau  was  perched  on  a  sheer  rock  overhanging 
the  Vale  of  Bregaglia  and  commanding  a  far  flung 
prospect  almost  to  the  brink  of  Como.  On  both 
sides  rose  the  mountain  barriers ;  but  toward  the 
east  there  was  an  inviting  gorge,  beyond  which  the 
lofty  Cima  di  Rosso  flung  its  eternal  snows  heaven- 
ward. 

A  footpath  led  in  that  direction.  Helen,  who 
prided  herself  on  her  sense  of  locality,  decided  that 
it  would  bring  her  to  the  valley  in  which  were  situ- 
ated, as  she  learned  by  the  map,  a  small  lake  and 
a  glacier. 

"  That  will  be  a  fine  walk  before  lunch,"  she  said, 
"  and  it  is  quite  impossible  to  lose  the  way." 

So  she  set  off,  crossing  the  hotel  golf  course,  and 
making  for  a  typical  Swiss  church  that  crowned  the 
nearest  of  the  foothills.  Passing  the  church,  she 
found  the  double  doors  in  the  porch  open,  and  peeped 
in.  It  was  a  cozy  little  place,  cleaner  and  less  garish 
than  such  edifices  are  usually  on  the  Continent.  The 
lamp  burning  before  the  sanctuary  showed  that  it 
was  devoted  to  Roman  Catholic  worship.  The  red 
gleam  of  the  tiny  sentinel  conveyed  a  curiously  vivid 
impression  of  faith  and  spirituality.  Though  Helen 

85 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

was  a  Protestant,  she  was  conscious  of  a  benign 
emotion  arising  from  the  presence  of  this  simple 
token  of  belief. 

"  I  must  ascertain  the  hours  of  service,"  she 
thought.  "  It  will  be  delightful  to  join  the  Swiss 
peasants  in  prayer.  One  might  come  near  the  Crea- 
tor in  this  rustic  tabernacle." 

She  did  not  cross  the  threshold  of  the  inner  door. 
At  present  her  mind  was  fixed  on  brisk  movement  in 
the  marvelous  air.  She  wanted  to  absorb  the  sun- 
shine, to  dispel  once  and  for  all  the  unpleasing  picture 
of  life  in  the  high  Alps  presented  by  the  stupid  crowd 
she  had  met  in  the  hotel  overnight.  Of  course,  she 
was  somewhat  unjust  there;  but  women  are  predis- 
posed to  trust  first  impressions,  and  Helen  was  no 
exception  to  her  sex. 

Beyond  the  church  the  path  was  not  so  definite. 
Oddly  enough,  it  seemed  to  go  along  the  flat  top  of 
a  low  wall  down  to  a  tiny  mountain  stream.  Steps 
were  cut  in  the  opposite  hillside,  but  they  were 
little  used,  and  higher  up,  among  some  dwarf  pines 
and  azaleas,  a  broader  way  wound  back  toward 
the  few  scattered  chalets  that  nestled  under  the 
chateau. 

As  the  guidebook  spoke  of  a  carriage  road  to  Lake 
Cavloccio,  and  a  bridle  path  thence  to  within  a  mile 
of  the  Forno  glacier,  she  came  to  the  conclusion 
that  she  was  taking  a  short  cut.  At  any  rate,  on 
the  summit  of  the  next  little  hill  she  would  be  able 
to  see  her  way  quite  distinctly,  so  she  jumped  across 

86 


AN  INTERLUDE 

the  br6ok  and  climbed  through  the  undergrowth. 
Before  she  had  gone  twenty  yards  she  stopped.  She 
was  almost  certain  that  someone  was  sobbing  bitterly 
up  there  among  the  trees.  It  had  an  uncanny  sound, 
this  plaint  of  grief  in  such  a  quiet,  sunlit  spot.  Still, 
sorrow  was  not  an  affrighting  thing  to  Helen.  It 
might  stir  her  sympathies,  but  it  assuredly  could  not 
drive  her  away  in  panic. 

She  went  on,  not  noiselessly,  as  she  did  not  wish 
to  intrude  on  some  stranger's  misery.  Soon  she  came 
to  a  low  wall,  and,  before  she  quite  realized  her  sur- 
roundings, she  was  looking  into  a  grass  grown  ceme- 
tery. It  was  a  surprise,  this  ambush  of  the  silent 
company  among  the  trees.  Hidden  away  from  the 
outer  world,  and  so  secluded  that  its  whereabouts 
remain  unknown  to  thousands  of  people  who  visit 
the  Maloja  each  summer,  there  was  an  aspect  of 
stealth  in  its  sudden  discovery  that  was  almost 
menacing.  But  Helen  was  not  a  nervous  subject. 
The  sobbing  had  ceased,  and  when  the  momentary 
effect  of  such  a  depressing  environment  had  been 
resolutely  driven  off,  she  saw  that  a  rusty  iron  gate 
was  open.  The  place  was  very  small.  There  were 
a  few  monuments,  so  choked  with  weeds  and  dank 
grass  that  their  inscriptions  were  illegible.  She  had 
never  seen  a  more  desolate  graveyard.  Despite  the 
vivid  light  and  the  joyous  breeze  rustling  the  pine 
branches,  its  air  of  abandonment  was  depressing. 
She  fought  against  the  sensation  as  unworthy  of  her 
intelligence;  but  she  had  some  reason  for  it  in  the 

87 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

fact  that  there  was  no  visible  explanation  of  the 
mourning  she  had  undoubtedly  heard. 

Then  she  uttered  an  involuntary  cry,  for  a  man's 
head  and  shoulders  rose  from  behind  a  leafy  shrub. 
Instantly  she  was  ashamed  of  her  fear.  It  was  the 
old  guide  who  acted  as  coachman  the  previous  even- 
ing, and  he  had  been  lying  face  downward  on  the 
grass  in  that  part  of  the  cemetery  given  over  to 
the  unnamed  dead. 

He  recognized  her  at  once.  Struggling  awkwardly 
to  his  feet,  he  said  in  broken  and  halting  German, 
"  I  pray  your  forgiveness,  fraulein.  I  fear  I  have 
alarmed  you." 

"  It  is  I  who  should  ask  forgiveness,"  she  said. 
"  I  came  here  by  accident.  I  thought  I  could  go 
to  Cavloccio  by  this  path." 

She  could  have  hit  on  no  other  words  so  well  cal- 
culated to  bring  him  back  to  every  day  life.  To 
direct  the  steps  of  wanderers  in  his  beloved  Engadine 
was  a  real  pleasure  to  him.  For  an  instant  he  for- 
got that  they  had  both  spoken  German. 

"  No,  no !  "  he  cried  animatedly.  "  For  lek  him 
go  by  village.  Bad  road  dissa  way.  No  cross  ze 
field.  Verboten! " 

Then  Helen  remo.mbered  that  trespassers  are 
sternly  warned  off  the  low  lying  lands  in  the  moun- 
tains. Grass  is  scarce  and  valuable.  Until  the  high- 
est pastures  yield  to  the  arid  rock,  pedestrians  must 
keep  to  the  beaten  track. 

"  I  was  quite  mistaken,"  she  said.      "  I  see  now 

88 


'  I  fear  I  have  alarmed  you,  Fraulein. 


AN  INTERLUDE 

that  the  path  I  was  trying  to  reach  leads  here  only. 
And  I  am  very,  very  sorry  I  disturbed  you." 

He  hobbled  nearer,  the  ruin  of  a  fine  man,  with  a 
nobly  proportioned  head  and  shoulders,  but  sadly 
maimed  by  the  accident  which,  to  all  appearances, 
made  him  useless  as  a  guide. 

"  Pardon  an  old  man's  folly,  fraulein,"  he  said 
humbly.  "  I  thought  none  could  hear,  and  I  felt  the 
loss  of  my  little  girl  more  than  ever  to-day." 

"  Your  daughter?    Is  she  buried  here?  " 

"  Yes.  Many  a  year  has  passed ;  but  I  miss  her 
now  more  than  ever.  She  was  all  I  had  in  the  world, 
fraulein.  I  am  alone  now,  and  that  is  a  hard  thing 
when  the  back  is  bent  with  age." 

Helen's  eyes  grew  moist;  but  she  tried  bravely  to 
control  her  voice.  "  Was  she  young?  "  she  asked 
softly. 

"  Only  twenty,  fraulein,  only  twenty,  and  as  tall 
and  fair  as  yourself.  They  carried  her  here  sixteen 
years  ago  this  very  day.  I  did  not  even  see  her.  On 
the  previous  night  I  fell  on  Corvatsch." 

"  Oh,  how  sad !  But  why  did  she  die  at  that  age  ? 
And  in  this  splendid  climate?  Was  her  death  un- 
expected ?  " 

"  Unexpected !  "  He  turned  and  looked  at  the 
huge  mountain  of  which  the  cemetery  hill  formed 
one  of  the  lowermost  buttresses.  "  If  the  Piz  della 
Margna  were  to  topple  over  and  crush  me  where  I 
stand,  it  would  be  less  unforeseen  than  was  my  sweet 
Etta's  fate.  But  I  frighten  you,  lady, — a  poor  re- 

89 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

turn  for  your  kindness.  That  is  your  way, — through 
the  village,  and  by  the  postroad  till  you  reach  a 
notice  board  telling  you  where  to  take  the  path." 

There  was  a  crude  gentility  in  his  manner  that 
added  to  the  pathos  of  his  words.  Helen  was  sure 
that  lie  wished  to  be  left  alone  with  his  memories. 
Yet  she  lingered. 

"  Please  tell  me  your  name,"  she  said.  "  I  may 
visit  St.  Moritz  while  I  remain  here,  and  I  shall  try 
to  find  you." 

"  Christian  Stampa,"  "he  said.  He  seemed  to  be 
on  the  point  of  adding  something,  but  checked  him- 
self. "  Christian  Stampa,"  he  repeated,  after  a 
pause.  "  Everybody  knows  old  Stampa  the  guide. 
If  I  am  not  there,  and  you  go  to  Zermatt  some  day — 
well,  just  ask  for  Stampa.  They  will  tell  you  what 
has  become  of  me." 

She  found  it  hard  to  reconcile  this  broken,  care- 
worn old  man  with  her  cheery  companion  of  the 
previous  afternoon.  What  did  he  mean  ?  She  under- 
stood his  queer  jargon  of  Italianized  German  quite 
clearly;  but  there  was  a  sinister  ring  in  his  words 
that  blanched  her  face.  She  could  not  leave  him  in 
his  present  mood.  She  was  more  alarmed  now  than 
when  she  saw  him  rising  ghostlike  from  behind  the 
screen  of  grass  and  weeds. 

"  Please  walk  with  me  to  the  village,"  she  said. 
"  All  this  beautiful  land  is  strange  to  me.  It  will 
divert  your  thoughts  from  a  mournful  topic  if  you 
tell  me  something  of  its  wonders." 

90 


AN  INTERLUDE 

He  looked  at  her  for  an  instant.  Then  his  eyes 
fell  on  the  church  in  the  neighboring  hollow,  and 
he  crossed  himself,  murmuring  a  few  words  in  Italian. 
She  guessed  their  meaning.  He  was  thanking  the 
Virgin  for  having  sent  to  his  rescue  a  girl  who  re- 
minded him  of  his  lost  Etta. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  I  will  come.  If  I  were  remaining 
in  the  Maloja,  frdidein,  I  would  beg  you  to  let  me 
take  you  to  the  Forno,  and  perhaps  to  one  of  the 
peaks  beyond.  Old  as  I  am,  and  lame,  you  would 
be  safe  with  me." 

Helen  breathed  freely  again.  She  felt  that  she 
had  been  within  measurable  distance  of  a  tragedy. 
Nor  was  there  any  call  on  her  wits  to  devise  fresh 
means  of  drawing  his  mind  away  from  the  madness 
that  possessed  him  a  few  minutes  earlier.  As  he 
limped  unevenly  by  her  side,  his  talk  was  of  the  moun- 
tains. Did  she  intend  to  climb?  Well,  slow  and 
sure  was  the  golden  rule.  Do  little  or  nothing  during 
four  or  five  days,  until  she  had  grown  accustomed  to 
the  thin  and  keen  Alpine  air.  Then  go  to  Lake 
Lunghino, — that  would  suffice  for  the  first  real  ex- 
cursion. Next  day,  she  ought  to  start  early,  and 
climb  the  mountain  overlooking  that  same  lake, — 
up  there,  on  the  other  side  of  the  hotel, — all  rock  and 
not  difficult.  If  the  weather  was  clear,  she  would 
have  a  grand  view  of  the  Bernina  range.  Next  she 
might  try  the  Forno  glacier.  It  was  a  simple  thing. 
She  could  go  to  and  from  the  cabane  in  ten  hours. 
Afterward,  the  Cima  di  Rosso  offered  an  easy  climb; 

91 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

but  that  meant  sleeping  at  the  hut.  All  of  which 
was  excellent  advice,  though  the  reflection  came  that 
Stampa's  "  slow  and  sure  "  methods  were  not  strongly 
in  evidence  some  sixteen  hours  earlier. 

Now,  the  Cima  di  Rosso  was  in  full  view  at  that 
instant.  Helen  stopped. 

"  Do  you  really  mean  to  tell  me  that  if  I  wish  to 
reach  the  top  of  that  mountain,  I  must  devote  two 
days  to  it?  "  she  cried. 

Stampa,  though  bothered  with  troubles  beyond 
her  ken,  forgot  them  sufficiently  to  laugh  grimly. 
"  It  is  farther  away  than  you  seem  to  think,  fraulem; 
but  the  real  difficulty  is  the  ice.  Unless  you  cross 
some  of  the  crevasses  in  the  early  morning,  before 
the  sun  has  had  time  to  undo  the  work  accomplished 
by  the  night's  frost,  you  run  a  great  risk.  And  that 
is  why  you  must  be  ready  to  start  from  the  cabane 
at  dawn.  Moreover,  at  this  time  of  year,  you  get 
the  finest  view  about  six  o'clock." 

The  mention  of  crevasses  was  somewhat  awesome. 
"  Is  it  necessary  to  be  roped  when  one  tries  that 
climb?  "  she  asked. 

"  If  any  guide  ever  tells  you  that  you  need  not 
be  roped  while  crossing  ice  or  climbing  rock,  turn 
back  at  once,  fraulein.  Wait  for  another  day,  and 
go  with  a  man  who  knows  his  business.  That  is  how 
the  Alps  get  a  bad  name  for  accidents.  Look  at 
me!  I  have  climbed  the  Matterhorn  forty  times, 
and  the  Jungfrau  times  out  of  count,  and  never  did 
I  or  anyone  in  my  care  come  to  grief.  '  Use  the  rope 

92 


AN  INTERLUDE 

properly,'  is  my  motto,  and  it  has  never  failed  me, 
not  even  when  two  out  of  five  of  us  were  struck 
senseless  by  falling  stones  on  the  south  side  of 
Monte  Rosa." 

Helen  experienced  another  thrill.  "  I  very  much 
object  to  falling  stones,"  she  said. 

Stampa  threw  out  his  hands  in  emphatic  gesture. 
"  What  can  one  do  ?  "  he  cried.  "  They  are  always 
a  danger,  like  the  snow  cornice  and  the  neve.  There 
is  a  chimney  on  the  Jungfrau  through  which  stones 
are  constantly  shooting  from  a  height  of  two  thou- 
sand feet.  You  cannot  see  them, — they  travel  too 
fast  for  the  eye.  You  hear  something  sing  past  your 
ears,  that  is  all.  Occasionally  there  is  a  report  like 
a  gunshot,  and  then  you  observe  a  little  cloud  of 
dust  rising  from  a  new  scar  on  a  rock.  If  you  are 
hit — well,  there  is  no  dust,  because  the  stone  goes 
right  through.  Of  course  one  does  not  loiter 
there." 

Then,  seeing  the  scared  look  on  her  face,  he  went 
on.  "  Ladies  should  not  go  to  such  places.  It  is 
not  fit.  But  for  men,  yes.  There  is  the  joy  of  battle. 
Do  not  err,  fraulein, — the  mountains  are  alive.  And 
they  fight  to  the  death.  They  can  be  beaten ;  but 
there  must  be  no  mistakes.  They  are  like  strong 
men,  the  hills.  When  you  strive  against  them,  strain 
them  to  your  breast  and  never  relax  your  grip.  Then 
they  yield  slowly,  with  many  a  trick  and  false  move 
that  a  man  must  learn  if  he  would  look  down  over 
them  all  and  say,  '  I  am  lord  here.'  Ah  me !  Shall 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

I  ever  again  cross  the  Col  du  Lion  or  climb  the 
Great  Tower  ?  But  there !  I  am  old,  and  thrown 
aside.  Boys  whom  I  engaged  as  porters  would  re- 
fuse me  now  as  their  porter.  Better  to  have  died 
like  my  friend,  Michel  Croz,  than  live  to  be  a  goat- 
herd." 

He  seemed  to  pull  himself  up  with  an  effort. 
"  That  way — to  your  left — you  cannot  miss  the 
path.  Addio,  signorina,"  and  he  lifted  his  hat  with 
the  inborn  grace  of  the  peasantry  of  Southern 
Europe. 

Helen  was  hoping  that  he  might  elect  to  accom- 
pany her  to  Cavloccio.  She  would  willingly  have 
paid  him  for  loss  of  time.  Her  ear  was  becoming 
better  tuned  each  moment  to  his  strange  patois. 
Though  he  often  gave  a  soft  Italian  inflection  to 
the  harsh  German  syllables,  she  grasped  his  meaning 
quite  literally.  She  had  read  so  much  about  Switzer- 
land that  she  knew  how  Michel  Croz  was  killed  while 
descending  the  Matterhorn  after  having  made  the 
first  ascent.  That  historic  accident  happened  long 
before  she  was  born.  To  hear  a  man  speak  of  Croz 
as  a  friend  sounded  almost  unbelievable,  though  a 
moment's  thought  told  her  that  Whymper,  who  led 
the  attack  on  the  hitherto  impregnable  Cervin  on 
that  July  day  in  1865,  was  still  living,  a  keen 
Alpinist. 

She  could  not  refrain  from  asking  Stampa  one 
question,  though  she  imagined  that  he  was  now  in 
a  hurry  to  take  the  damaged  carriage  back  to  St. 

94 


AN  INTERLUDE 

Moritz.  "  Michel  Croz  was  a  brave  man,"  she  said. 
"  Did  you  know  him  well?  " 

"  I  worshiped  him,  fraulem,"  was  the  reverent  an- 
swer. "  May  I  receive  pardon  in  my  last  hour,  but 
I  took  him  for  an  evil  spirit  on  the  day  of  his  death ! 
I  was  with  Jean  Antoine  Carrel  in  Signer  Giordano's 
party.  We  started  from  Breuil,  Croz  and  his  voy- 
ageurs  from  Zermatt.  We  failed;  he  succeeded. 
When  we  saw  him  and  his  Englishmen  on  the  summit, 
we  believed  they  were  devils,  because  they  yelled  in 
triumph,  and  started  an  avalanche  of  stones  to  an- 
nounce their  victory.  Three  days  later,  Carrel  and 
I,  with  two  men  from  Breuil,  tried  again.  We  gained 
the  top  that  time,  and  passed  the  place  where  Croz 
was  knocked  over  by  the  English  milord  and  the 
others  who  fell  with  him.  I  saw  three  bodies  on  the 
glacier  four  thousand  feet  below, — a  fine  burial- 
ground,  better  than  that  up  there." 

He  looked  back  at  the  pines  which  now  hid  the 
cemetery  wall  from  sight.  Then,  with  another  cour- 
teous sweep  of  his  hat,  he  walked  away,  covering  the 
ground  rapidly  despite  his  twisted  leg. 

If  Helen  had  been  better  trained  as  a  woman 
journalist,  she  would  have  regarded  this  meeting  with 
Stampa  as  an  incident  of  much  value.  Long  experi- 
ence of  the  lights  and  shades  of  life  might  have  ren- 
dered her  less  sensitive.  As  it  was,  the  man's  per- 
sonality appealed  to  her.  She  had  been  vouchsafed 
a  glimpse  into  an  abyss  profound  as  that  into  which 
Stampa  himself  peered  on  the  day  he  discovered 

95 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

three  of  the  four  who  fell  from  the  Matterhorn  still 
roped  together  in  death.  The  old  man's  simple  refer- 
ences to  the  terrors  lurking  in  those  radiant  moun- 
tains had  also  shaken  her  somewhat.  The  snow 
capped  Cima  di  Rosso  no  longer  looked  so  attractive. 
The  Orlegna  Gorge  had  lost  some  of  its  beauty. 
Though  the  sun  was  pouring  into  its  wooded  depths, 
it  had  grown  gloomy  and  somber  in  her  eyes.  Yield- 
ing to  impulse,  she  loitered  in  the  village,  took  the 
carriage  road  to  the  chateau,  and  sat  there,  with  her 
back  to  the  inner  heights  and  her  gaze  fixed  on  the 
smiling  valley  that  opened  teward  Italy  out  of  the 
Septimer  Pass. 

Meanwhile,  Stampa  hurried  past  the  stables,  where 
his  horses  were  munching  the  remains  of  the  little 
oaten  loaves  which  form  the  staple  food  of  hard 
worked  animals  in  the  Alps.  He  entered  the  hotel 
by  the  main  entrance,  and  was  on  his  way  to  the 
manager's  bureau,  when  Spencer,  smoking  on  the 
veranda,  caught  sight  of  him. 

Instantly  the  American  started  in  pursuit.  By 
this  time  he  had  heard  of  Helen's  accident  from  one 
of  yesterday's  passers  by.  It  accounted  for  the  de- 
lay; but  he  was  anxious  to  learn  exactly  what  had 
happened. 

Stampa  reached  the  office  first.  He  was  speaking 
to  the  manager,  when  Spencer  came  in  and  said  in  his 
downright  way: 

"  This  is  the  man  who  drove  Miss  Wynton  from 
St.  Moritz  last  night.  I  don't  suppose  I  shall  be 

96 


AN  INTERLUDE 

able  to  understand  what  he  says.  Will  you  kindly 
ask  him  what  caused  the  trouble?  " 

"  It  is  quite  an  easy  matter,"  was  the  smiling  re- 
sponse. "  Poor  Stampa  is  not  only  too  eager  to 
pass  every  other  vehicle  on  the  road,  but  he  is  in- 
clined to  watch  the  mountains  rather  than  his  horses' 
ears.  He  was  a  famous  guide  once ;  but  he  met  with 
misfortune,  and  took  to  carriage  work  as  a  means 
of  livelihood.  He  has  damaged  his  turnout  twice 
this  year;  so  this  morning  he  was  dismissed  by  tele- 
phone, and  another  driver  is  coming  from  St.  Moritz 
to  take  his  place." 

Spencer  looked  at  Stampa.  He  liked  the  strong, 
worn  face,  with  its  half  wistful,  half  resigned  ex- 
pression. An  uneasy  feeling  gripped  him  that  the 
whim  of  a  moment  in  the  Embankment  Hotel  might 
exert  its  crazy  influence  in  quarters  far  removed 
from  the  track  that  seemed  then  to  be  so  direct  and 
pleasure-giving. 

"  Why  did  he  want  to  butt  in  between  the  other 
fellow  and  the  landscape?  What  was  the  hurry,  any- 
how ?  "  he  asked. 

Stampa  smiled  genially  when  the  questions  were 
translated  to  him.  "  I  was  talking  to  the  signorina," 
he  explained,  using  his  native  tongue,  for  he  was  born 
on  the  Italian  side  of  the  Bernina. 

"  That  counts,  but  it  gives  no  good  reason  why 
he  should  risk  her  life,"  objected  Spencer. 

Stampa's  weather  furrowed  cheeks  reddened. 
"  There  was  no  danger,"  he  muttered  wrathfully. 

97 


"  Madonna !  I  would  lose  the  use  of  another  limb 
rather  than  hurt  a  hair  of  her  head.  Is  she  not  my 
good  angel?  Has  she  not  drawn  me  back  from  the 
gate  of  hell?  Risk  her  life!  Are  people  saying 
that  because  a  worm-eaten  wheel  went  to  pieces 
against  a  stone?  " 

"  What  on  earth  is  he  talking  about  ?  "  demanded 
Spencer.  "  Has  he  been  pestering  Miss  Wynton 
this  morning  with  some  story  of  his  present  diffi- 
culties? " 

The  manager  knew  Stampa's  character.  He  put 
the  words  in  kindlier  phrase.  "  Does  the  signorina 
know  that  you  have  lost  your  situation  ?  "  he  said. 

Even  in  that  mild  form,  the  suggestion  annoyed 
the  old  man.  He  flung  it  aside  with  scornful  gesture, 
and  turned  to  leave  the  office.  "  Tell  the  gentleman 
to  go  to  Zermatt  and  ask  in  the  street  if  Christian 
Stampa  the  guide  would  throw  himself  on  a  woman's 
charity,"  he  growled. 

Spencer  did  not  wait  for  any  interpretation. 
"  Hold  on,"  he  said  quietly.  "  What  is  he  going  to 
do  now?  Work,  for  a  man  of  his  years,  doesn't  grow 
on  gooseberry  bushes,  I  suppose." 

"  Christian,  Christian !  You  are  hot-headed  as  a 
boy,"  cried  the  manager.  "  The  fact  is,"  he  went 
on,  "  he  came  to  me  to  offer  his  services.  But  I  have 
already  engaged  more  drivers  than  I  need,  and  I 
am  dismissing  some  stable  men.  Perhaps  he  can  find 
a  job  in  St.  Moritz." 

"  Are  his  days  as  guide  ended?  " 
98 


AN  INTERLUDE 

"  Unfortunately,  yes.  I  believe  he  is  as  active  as 
ever;  but  people  won't  credit  it.  And  you  cannot 
blame  them.  When  one's  safety  depends  on  a  man 
who  may  have  to  cling  to  an  ice  covered  rock  like  a 
fly  to  a  window  pane,  one  is  apt  to  distrust  a  crooked 
leg." 

"  Did  he  have  an  accident?  " 

The  manager  hesitated.  "  It  is  part  of  his  sad 
history,"  he  said.  "  He  fell,  and  nearly  killed  him- 
self ;  but  he  was  hurrying  to  see  the  last  of  a  daughter 
to  whom  he  was  devoted." 

"  Is  he  a  local  man,  then?  " 

"  No.  Oh,  no !  The  girl  happened  to  be  here 
when  the  end  came." 

"  Well,  I  guess  he  will  suit  my  limited  require- 
ments in  the  fly  and  window-pane  business  while  I 
remain  in  Maloja,"  said  Spencer.  "  Tell  him  I  am 
willing  to  put  up  ten  francs  a  day  and  extras  for 
his  exclusive  services  as  guide  during  my  stay." 

Poor  Stampa  was  nearly  overwhelmed  by  this 
unexpected  good  fortune.  In  his  agitation  he  blurted 
out,  "  Ah,  then,  the  good  God  did  really  send  an 
angel  to  my  help  this  morning !  " 

Spencer,  however,  reviewing  his  own  benevolence 
over  a  pipe  outside  the  hotel,  expressed  the  cynical 
opinion  that  the  hot  sun  was  affecting  his  brain. 
"  I'm  on  a  loose  end,"  he  communed.  "  Next  time  I 
waft  myself  to  Europe  on  a  steamer  I'll  bring  my 
mother.  It  would  be  a  bully  fine  notion  to  cable 
for  her  right  away.  I  want  someone  to  take  care 

99 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

of  me.     It  looks  as  if  I  had  a  cinch  on  running  this 
hotel  gratis.     What  in  thunder  will  happen  next?  " 

He  could  surely  have  answered  that  query  if  he 
had  the  least  inkling  of  the  circumstances  governing 
Helen's  prior  meeting  with  Stampa.  As  it  was,  the 
development  of  events  followed  the  natural  course. 
While  Spencer  strolled  off  by  the  side  of  the  lake, 
the  old  guide  lumbered  into  the  village  street,  and 
waited  there,  knowing  that  he  would  waylay  the 
bella  Inglesa  on  her  return.  Though  she  came  from 
the  chateau  and  not  from  Cavloccio,  he  did  not  fail 
to  see  her. 

At  first  she  was  at  a  loss  to  fathom  the  cause  of 
Stampa's  delight,  and  still  less  to  understand  why 
he  should  want  to  thank  her  with  such  exuberance. 
She  imagined  he  was  overjoyed  at  having  gone  back 
to  his  beloved  profession,  and  it  was  only  by  dint 
of  questioning  that  she  discovered  the  truth.  Then 
it  dawned  on  her  that  the  man  had  been  goaded  to 
desperation  by  the  curt  message  from  St.  Moritz, — 
that  he  was  sorely  tempted  to  abandon  the  struggle, 
and  follow  into  the  darkness  the  daughter  taken  from 
him  so  many  years  ago, — and  the  remembrance  of 
her  suspicion  when  they  were  about  to  part  at  the 
cemetery  gate  lent  a  serious  note  to  her  words  of 
congratulation. 

"  You  see,  Stampa,"  she  said,  "  you  were  very 
wrong  to  lose  faith  this  morning.  At  the  very  mo- 
ment of  your  deepest  despair  Heaven  was  providing 
a  good  friend  for  you." 

100 


AN  INTERLUDE 

"  Yes,  indeed,  fraule'm.  That  is  why  I  waited  here. 
I  felt  that  I  must  thank  you.  It  was  all  through  you. 
The  good  God  sent  you 

"  I  think  you  are  far  more  beholden  to  the  gentle- 
man who  employed  you  than  to  me,"  she  broke  in. 

"  Yes,  he  is  splendid,  the  young  voyageur;  but  it 
was  wholly  on  your  account,  lady.  He  was  angry 
with  me  at  first,  because  he  thought  I  placed  you 
in  peril  in  the  matter  of  the  wheel." 

Helen  was  amazed.    "  He  spoke  of  me?  "  she  cried. 

"  Ah,  yes.  He  did  not  say  much,  but  his  eyes 
looked  through  me.  He  has  the  eyes  of  a  true  man, 
that  young  American." 

She  was  more  bewildered  than  ever.  "  What  is 
his  name?  "  she  asked. 

"  Here  it  is.  The  director  wrote  it  for  me,  so  that 
I  may  learn  how  to  pronounce  it." 

Stampa  produced  a  scrap  of  paper,  and  Helen 
read,  "  Mr.  Charles  K.  Spencer." 

"  Are  you  quite  certain  he  mentioned  me  ?  "  she 
repeated. 

"  Can  I  be  mistaken,  frauleln.  I  know,  because  I 
studied  the  labels  on  your  boxes.  Mees  Helene  Ween- 
ton — so?  And  did  he  not  rate  me  about  the  acci- 
dent? " 

"  Well,  wonders  will  never  cease,"  she  vowed ;  and 
indeed  they  were  only  just  beginning  in  her  life, 
which  shows  how  blind  to  excellent  material  wonders 
can  be. 

At  luncheon  she  summoned  the  head  waiter.  "  Is 
101 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

there  a  Mr.  Charles  K.  Spencer  staying  in  the  hotel?  " 
she  asked. 

"  Yes,  madam." 

"  Will  you  please  tell  me  if  he  is  in  the  room?  " 

The  head  waiter  turned.  Spencer  was  studying 
the  menu.  "  Yes,  madam.  There  he  is,  sitting  alone, 
at  the  second  table  from  the  window." 

It  was  quite  to  be  expected  that  the  subject  of 
their  joint  gaze  should  look  at  them  instantly.  There 
is  a  magnetism  in  the  human  eye  that  is  unfailing  in 
that  respect,  and  its  power  is  increased  a  hundred- 
fold when  a  charming  young  woman  tries  it  on  a 
young  man  who  happens  to  be  thinking  of  her  at 
the  moment. 

Then  Spencer  realized  that  Stampa  had  told  Helen 
what  had  taken  place  in  the  hotel  bureau,  and  he 
wanted  to  kick  himself  for  having  forgotten  to  make 
secrecy  a  part  of  the  bargain. 

Helen,  knowing  that  he  knew,  blushed  furiously. 
She  tried  to  hide  her  confusion  by  murmuring  some- 
thing to  the  head  waiter.  But  in  her  heart  she  was 
saying,  "  Who  in  the  world  is  he?  I  have  never  seen 
him  before  last  night.  And  why  am  I  such  an  idiot 
as  to  tremble  all  over  just  because  he  happened  to 
catch  me  looking  at  him  ?  " 


102 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE    BATTLEFIELD 

BOTH  man  and  woman  were  far  too  well  bred  to 
indulge  in  an  oeillade.  The  knowledge  that  each  was 
thinking  of  the  other  led  rather  to  an  ostentatious 
avoidance  of  anything  that  could  be  construed  into 
any  such  flirtatious  overture. 

Though  Stampa's  curious  statement  had  puzzled 
Helen,  she  soon  hit  on  the  theory  that  the  American 
must  have  heard  of  the  accident  to  her  carriage. 
Yes,  that  supplied  a  ready  explanation.  No  doubt 
he  kept  a  sharp  lookout  for  her  on  the  road.  He 
arrived  at  the  hotel  almost  simultaneously  with  her- 
self, and  she  had  not  forgotten  his  somewhat  inquir- 
ing glance  as  they  stood  together  on  the  steps.  With 
the  chivalry  of  his  race  in  all  things  concerning 
womankind,  he  was. eager  to  render  assistance,  and 
under  the  circumstances  he  probably  wondered  what 
sort  of  damsel  in  distress  it  was  that  needed  help. 

103 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

It  was  natural  enough  too  that  in  engaging  Stampa 
he  should  refer  to  the  carelessness  that  brought 
about  the  collapse  of  the  wheel.  Really,  when  one 
came  to  analyze  an  incident  seemingly  inexplic- 
able, it  resolved  itself  into  quite  commonplace  con- 
stituents. 

She  found  it  awkward  that  he  should  be  sitting 
between  her  and  a  window  commanding  the  best 
view  of  the  lake.  If  Spencer  had  been  at  any  other 
table,  she  could  have  feasted  her  eyes  on  the  whole 
expanse  of  the  Ober-Engadin  Valley.  Therefore  she 
had  every  excuse  for  looking  that  way,  whereas  he 
had  none  for  gazing  at  her.  Spencer  appeared  to 
be  aware  of  this  disability.  For  lack  of  better  occu- 
pation he  scrutinized  the  writing  on  the  menu  with 
a  prolonged  intentness  worthy  of  a  gormand  or  an 
expert  graphologist. 

Helen  rose  first,  and  that  gave  him  an  opportunity 
to  note  her  graceful  carriage.  Though  born  in  the 
States,  he  was  of  British  stock,  and  he  did  not  share 
the  professed  opinion  of  the  American  humorist  that 
the  typical  Englishwoman  is  angular,  has  large  feet, 
and  does  not  know  how  to  walk.  Helen,  at  any  rate, 
betrayed  none  of  these  elements  of  caricature.  Though 
there  were  several  so-called  "  smart "  women  in  the 
hotel, — women  who  clung  desperately  to  the  fringe 
of  Society  on  both  sides  of  the  Atlantic, — his  pro- 
tegee was  easily  first  among  the  few  who  had  any 
claim  to  good  looks. 

Helen  was  not  only  tall  and  lithe,  but  her  move- 
104 


THE  BATTLEFIELD 

ments  were  marked  by  a  quiet  elegance.  It  was  her 
custom,  in  nearly  all  weathers,  to  walk  from  Bays- 
water  to  Professor  von  Eulenberg's  study,  which, 
needless  to  say,  was  situated  near  the  British.  Mu- 
seum. She  usually  returned  by  a  longer  route,  un- 
less pelting  rain  or  the  misery  of  London  snow  made 
the  streets  intolerable.  Thus  there  was  hardly  a  day 
that  she  did  not  cover  eight  miles  at  a  rapid  pace, 
a  method  of  training  that  eclipsed  all  the  artifices 
of  beauty  doctors  and  schools  of  deportment.  Her 
sweetly  pretty  face,  her  abundance  of  shining  brown 
hair,  her  slim,  well  proportioned  figure,  and  the 
almost  athletic  swing  of  her  well  arched  shoulders, 
would  entitle  her  to  notice  in  a  gathering  of  beauties 
far  more  noted  than  those  who  graced  Maloja  with 
their  presence  that  year.  In  addition  to  these 
physical  attractions  she  carried  with  her  the  rarer 
and  indefinable  aura  of  the  born  aristocrat.  As  it 
happened,  she  merited  that  description  both  by  birth 
and  breeding;  but  there  is  a  vast  company  entitled 
to  consideration  on  that  score  to  whom  nature  has 
cruelly  denied  the  necessary  hallmarks — otherwise 
the  pages  of  Burke  would  surely  be  embellished  with 
portraits. 

Indeed,  so  far  as  appearance  went,  it  was  rather 
ludicrous  to  regard  Helen  as  the  social  inferior  of 
any  person  then  resident  in  the  Kursaal,  and  it  is 
probable  that  a  glimmering  knowledge  of  this  fact 
inflamed  Mrs.  de  Courcy  Vavasour's  wrath  to  boiling 
point,  when  a  few  minutes  later,  she  saw  her  son 

105 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

coolly  walk  up  to  the  "  undesirable  "  and  enter  into 
conversation  with  her. 

Helen  was  seated  in  a  shady  corner.  A  flood  of 
sunlight  filled  the  glass  covered  veranda  with  a  grate- 
ful warmth.  She  had  picked  up  an  astonishingly 
well  written  and  scholarly  guide  book  issued  by  the 
proprietors  of  the  hotel,  and  was  deep  in  its  opening 
treatise  on  the  history  and  racial  characteristics  of 
the  Engadiners,  when  she  was  surprised  at  hearing 
herself  addressed  by  name. 

"  Er — Miss — er — Wynton,  I  believe  ?  "  said  a 
drawling  voice. 

Looking  up,  she  found  George  de  Courcy  Vavasour 
bending  over  her  in  an  attitude  that  betokened  the 
utmost  admiration  for  both  parties  to  the  tete-a-tete. 
Under  ordinary  conditions, — that  is  to  say,  if  Vava- 
sour's existence  depended  on  his  own  exertions, — 
Helen's  eyes  would  have  dwelt  on  a  gawky  youth 
endowed  with  a  certain  pertness  that  might  in  time 
have  brought  him  from  behind  the  counter  of  a 
drapery  store  to  the  wider  arena  of  the  floor.  As 
it  was,  a  reasonably  large  income  gave  him  unbounded 
assurance,  and  his  credit  with  a  good  tailor  was 
unquestionable.  He  represented  a  British  product 
that  flourishes  best  in  alien  soil.  There  exists  a  for- 
eign legion  of  George  de  Courcy  Vavasours,  flaccid 
heroes  of  fashion  plates,  whose  parade  grounds 
change  with  the  seasons  from  Paris  to  the  Riviera, 
and  from  the  Riviera  to  some  nook  in  the  Alps. 
Providence  and  a  grandfather  have  conspired  in  their 

106 


THE  BATTLEFIELD 

behalf  to  make  work  unnecessary;  but  Providence, 
more  far-seeing  than  grandfathers,  has  decreed  that 
they  shall  be  effete  and  light  brained,  so  the  type  does 
not  endure. 

Helen,  out  of  the  corner  of  her  eye,  became  aware 
that  Mrs.  de  Courcy  Vavasour  was  advancing  with 
all  the  plumes  of  the  British  matron  ruffled  for  bat- 
tle. It  was  not  in  human  nature  that  the  girl  should 
not  recall  the  slight  offered  her  the  previous  even- 
ing. With  the  thought  came  the  temptation  to  re- 
pay it  now  with  interest ;  but  she  thrust  it  aside. 

"  Yes,  that  is  my  name,"  she  said,  smiling  pleas- 
antly. 

*'  Well — er — the  General  has  asked  me  to — er — 
invite  you  take  part  in  some  of  our  tournaments. 
We  have  tennis,  you  know,  an'  golf,  an'  croquet,  an' 
that  sort  of  thing.  Of  course,  you  play  tennis,  an' 
I  rather  fancy  you're  a  golfer  as  well.  You  look 
that  kind  of  girl — Eh,  what?  " 

He  caressed  a  small  mustache  as  he  spoke,  using 
the  finger  and  thumb  of  each  hand  alternately,  and 
Helen  noticed  that  his  hands  were  surprisingly  large 
when  compared  with  his  otherwise  fragile  frame. 

"Who  is  the  General?"  she  inquired. 

"  Oh,  Wragg,  you  know.  He  looks  after  every- 
thing in  the  amusement  line,  an'  I  help.  Do  let  me 
put  you  down  for  the  singles  an'  mixed  doubles.  None 
of  the  women  here  can  play  for  nuts,  an'  I  haven't 
got  a  partner  yet  for  the  doubles.  I've  been  waitin' 
for  someone  like  you  to  turn  up." 

107 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

"  You  have  not  remained  long  in  suspense,"  she 
could  not  help  saying.  "  You  are  Mr.  Vavasour, 
are  you  not?  " 

"  Yes,  better  known  as  Georgie." 

"  And  you  arrived  in  Maloja  last  evening,  I  think. 
Well,  I  do  play  tennis,  or  rather,  I  used  to  play 
fairly  well  some  years  ago " 

"  By  gad!  just  what  I  thought.  Go  slow  in  your 
practice  games,  Miss  Wynton,  an'  you'll  have  a  rip- 
pin'  handicap." 

"Would  that  be  quite  honest?"  said  Helen,  lift- 
ing her  steadfast  brown  eyes  to  meet  his  somewhat 
too  free  scrutiny. 

"  Honest?  Rather !  You  wait  till  you  see  the  old 
guard  pullin'  out  a  bit  when  they  settle  down  to 
real  business.  But  the  General  is  up  to  their  lit- 
tle dodges.  He  knows  their  form  like  a  book,  an* 
he  gets  every  one  of  'em  shaken  out  by  the  first 
round — Eh,  what?" 

"  The  arrangement  seems  to  be  ideal  if  one  is 
friendly  with  the  General,"  said  Helen. 

Vavasour  drew  up  a  chair.  He  also  drew  up  the 
ends  of  his  trousers,  thus  revealing  that  the  Pome- 
ranian brown  and  myrtle  green  stripes  in  his  neck- 
tie were  faithfully  reproduced  in  his  socks,  while 
these  master  tints  were  thoughtfully  developed  in 
the  subdominant  hues  of  his  clothes  and  boots. 

"  By  Jove !  what  a  stroke  of  luck  I  should  have 
got  hold  of  you  first !  "  he  chuckled.  "  I'm  pretty 
good  at  the  net,  Miss  Wynton.  If  we  manage  things 

108 


THE  BATTLEFIELD 

properly,  we  ought  to  have  the  mixed  doubles  a 
gift  with  plus  half  forty,  an'  in  the  ladies'  singles 
you'll  be  a  Queen's  Club  champion  at  six-stone  nine — 
Eh,  what?" 

Though  Vavasour  represented  a  species  of  inane 
young  man  whom  Helen  detested,  she  bore  with  him 
because  she  hungered  for  the  sound  of  an  English 
roice  in  friendly  converse  this  bright  morning.  At 
times  her  life  was  lonely  enough  in  London;  but 
she  had  never  felt  her  isolation  there.  The  great 
city  appealed  to  her  in  all  its  moods.  Her  cheerful 
yet  sensitive  nature  did  not  shrink  from  contact  with 
its  hurrying  crowds.  The  mere  sense  of  aloofness 
among  so  many  millions  of  people  brought  with  it 
the  knowledge  that  she  was  one  of  them,  a  human 
atom  plunged  into  a  heedless  vortex  the  moment  she 
passed  from  her  house  into  the  street. 

Here  in  Maloja  things  were  different.  While  her 
own  identity  was  laid  bare,  while  men  and  women 
canvassed  her  name,  her  appearance,  her  occupation, 
she  was  cut  off  from  them  by  a  social  wall  of  their 
own  contriving.  The  attitude  of  the  younger 
women  told  her  that  trespassers  were  forbidden 
within  that  sacred  fold.  She  knew  now  that  she  had 
done  a  daring  thing — outraged  one  of  the  cheap 
conventions — in  coming  alone  to  this  clique-ridden 
Swiss  valley.  Better  a  thousand  times  have  sought 
lodgings  in  some  small  village  inn,  and  mixed  with 
the  homely  folk  who  journeyed  thither  on  the  dili- 
gence or  tramped  joyously  afoot,  than  strive  to  win 

109 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

the  sympathy  of  any  of  these  shallow  nonentities  of 
the  smart  set. 

Even  while  listening  to  "  Georgie's "  efforts  to 
win  her  smiles  with  slangy  confidences,  she  saw  that 
Mrs.  Vavasour  had  halted  in  mid  career,  and  joined 
a  group  of  women,  evidently  a  mother  and  two 
daughters,  and  that  she  herself  was  the  subject  of 
their  talk.  She  wondered  why.  She  was  somewhat 
perplexed  when  the  conclave  broke  up  suddenly,  the 
girls  going  to  the  door,  Mrs.  Vavasour  retreating 
majestically  to  the  far  end  of  the  veranda,  and 
the  other  elderly  woman  drawing  a  short,  fat,  red 
faced  man  away  from  a  discussion  with  another  man. 

"  Jolly  place,  this,"  Vavasour  was  saying. 
"  There's  dancin'  most  nights.  The  dowager  bri- 
gade want  the  band  to  play  classical  music,  an'  that 
sort  of  rot,  you  know;  but  Mrs.  de  la  Vere  and  the 
Wragg  girls  like  a  hop,  an'  we  generally  arrange 
things  our  own  way.  We'll  have  a  dance  to-night 
if  you  wish  it;  but  you  must  promise  to " 

"  Georgie,"  cried  the  pompous  little  man,  "  I  want 
you  a  minute !  " 

Vavasour  swung  round.  Evidently  he  regarded 
the  interruption  as  "  a  beastly  bore."  "  All  right, 
General,"  he  said  airily.  "  I'll  be  there  soon.  No 
hurry,  is  there?  " 

"  Yes,  I  want  you  now ! "  The  order  was  em- 
phatic. The  General's  only  military  asset  was  a 
martinet  voice,  and  he  made  the  most  of  it. 

"  Rather  rotten,  isn't  it,  interferin'  with  a  fellow 
110 


THE  BATTLEFIELD 

in  this  way  ?  "  muttered  Vavasour.  "  Will  you  ex- 
cuse me?  I  must  see  what  the  old  boy  is  worryin* 
about.  I  shall  come  back  soon — Eh,  what  ?  " 

"  I  am  going  out,"  said  Helen ;  "  but  we  shall  meet 
again.  I  remain  here  a  month." 

"  You'll  enter  for  the  tournament  ?  "  he  asked  over 
his  shoulder. 

"  I — think  so.     It  will  be  something  to  do." 

"  Thanks  awfully.     And  don't  forget  to-night." 

Helen  laughed.  She  could  not  help  it.  The 
younger  members  of  the  Wragg  family  were  eying 
her  sourly  through  the  glass  partition.  They  seemed 
to  be  nice  girls  too,  and  she  made  up  her  mind 
to  disillusion  them  speedily  if  they  thought  that  she 
harbored  designs  on  the  callow  youth  whom  they 
probably  regarded  as  their  own  special  cavalier. 

When  she  passed  through  the  inner  doorway  to 
go  to  her  room  she  noticed  that  the  General  was 
giving  Georgie  some  instructions  which  were  listened 
to  in  sulky  silence.  Indeed,  that  remarkable  ex- 
warrior  was  laying  down  the  law  of  the  British  parish 
with  a  clearness  that  was  admirable.  He  had  been 
young  himself  once, — dammit ! — and  had  as  keen  an 
eye  for  a  pretty  face  as  any  other  fellow;  but  no 
gentleman  could  strike  up  an  acquaintance  with  an 
unattached  female  under  the  very  nose  of  his  mother, 
not  to  mention  the  noses  of  other  ladies  who  were 
his  friends.  Georgie  broke  out  in  protest. 

"  Oh,  but  I  say,  General,  she  is  a  lady,  an'  you 
yourself  said " 

111 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

**  I  know  I  did.  I  was  wrong.  Even  a  wary  old 
bird  like  me  can  make  a  mistake.  Mrs.  Vavasour  has 
just  warned  my  wife  about  her.  It's  no  good  argu- 
ing, Georgie,  my  boy.  Nowadays  you  can't  draw 
the  line  too  rigidly.  Things  permissible  in  Paris  or 
Nice  won't  pass  muster  here.  I'm  sorry,  Georgie. 
She's  a  high  stepper  and  devilish  taking,  I  admit. 
Writes  for  some  ha'penny  rag — er — for  some  cheap 
society  paper,  I  hear.  Why,  dash  it  all,  she  will  be 
lampooning  us  in  it  before  we  know  where  we  are. 
Just  you  go  and  tell  your  mother  you'll  behave  bet- 
ter in  future.  Excellent  woman,  Mrs.  Vavasour. 
She  never  makes  a  mistake.  Gad !  don't  you  remem- 
ber how  she  spotted  that  waiter  from  the  Ritz  who 
gulled  the  lot  of  us  at  the  Jetee  last  winter?  Took 
him  for  the  French  marquis  he  said  he  was,  every  one 
of  us,  women  and  all,  till  Mrs.  V.  fixed  her  eye  on 
him  and  said,  '  Gustave ! '  Damme !  how  he  curled 
up!" 

George  was  still  obdurate.  A  masquerading  waiter 
differed  from  Helen  in  many  essentials.  "  He  was 
a  Frenchman,  an'  they're  mostly  rotters.  This  girl 
is  English,  General,  an'  I  shall  look  a  proper  sort 
of  an  ass  if  I  freeze  up  suddenly  after  what  I've  said 
to  her." 

"  Not  for  the  first  time,  my  boy,  and  mebbe  not 
for  the  last."  Then,  in  view  of  the  younger  man's 
obvious  defiance,  the  General's  white  mustache  bris- 
tled. "  Of  course,  you  can  please  yourself,"  he 
growled:  "but  neither  Mrs.  Wragg  nor  my  daugh- 


THE  BATTLEFIKLD 

ters  will  tolerate  your  acquaintance  with  that  per- 


son : 


i  " 


"  Oh,  all  right,  General,"  came  the  irritated  an- 
swer. "  Between  you  an'  the  mater  I've  got  to  come 
to  heel;  but  it's  a  beastly  shame,  I  say,  an'  you're 
all  makin'  a  jolly  big  mistake." 

Georgie's  intelligence  might  be  superficial;  but 
he  knew  a  lady  when  he  met  one,  and  Helen  had  at- 
tracted him  powerfully.  He  was  thanking  his  stars 
for  the  good  fortune  that  numbered  him  among  the 
earliest  of  her  acquaintances  in  the  hotel,  and  it 
was  too  bad  that  the  barring  edict  should  have  been 
issued  against  her  so  unexpectedly.  But  he  was  not 
of  a  fighting  breed,  and  he  quailed  before  the  threat 
of  Mrs.  Wragg*s  displeasure. 

Helen,  after  a  delightful  ramble  past  the  chateau 
and  along  the  picturesque  turns  and  twists  of  the 
Colline  des  Artistes,  returned  in  time  for  tea,  which 
was  served  on  the  veranda,  the  common  rendezvous 
of  the  hotel  during  daylight.  No  one  spoke  to  her. 
She  went  out  again,  and  walked  by  the  lake  till  the 
shadows  fell  and  the  mountains  glittered  in  purple 
and  gold.  She  dressed  herself  in  a  simple  white  even- 
ing frock,  dined  in  solitary  state,  and  ventured  into 
the  ball  room  after  dinner. 

Georgie  was  dancing  with  Mrs.  de  la  Vere,  a  lan- 
guid looking  woman  who  seemed  to  be  pining  for 
admiration.  At  the  conclusion  of  the  waltz  that  was 
going  on  when  Helen  entered,  Vavasour  brought  his 
partner  a  whisky  and  soda  and  a  cigarette.  He 

113 


passed  Helen  twice,  but  ignored  her,  and  whirled  one 
of  the  Wragg  girls  off  into  a  polka.  Again  he  failed 
to  see  her  when  parties  were  being  formed  for  a 
quadrille.  Even  to  herself  she  did  not  attempt  to 
deny  a  feeling  of  annoyance,  though  she  extracted 
a  bitter  amusement  from  the  knowledge  that  she 
had  been  slighted  by  such  a  vapid  creature. 

She  was  under  no  misconception  as  to  what  had 
happened.  The  women  were  making  a  dead  set 
against  her.  If  she  had  been  plain  or  dowdy,  they 
might  have  been  friendly  enough.  It  was  an  un- 
pardonable offense  that  she  should  be  good  looking, 
unchaperoned,  and  not  one  of  the  queerly  assorted 
mixture  they  deemed  their  monde.  For  a  few  minutes 
she  was  really  angry.  She  realized  that  her  only 
crime  was  poverty.  Given  a  little  share  of  the  wealth 
held  by  many  of  these  passee  matrons  and  bold-eyed 
girls,  she  would  be  a  reigning  star  among  them,  and 
could  act  and  talk  as  she  liked.  Yet  her  shyness 
and  reserve  would  have  been  her  best  credentials  to 
any  society  that  was  constituted  on  a  sounder  basis 
than  a  gathering  of  snobs.  Among  really  well-born 
people  she  would  certainly  have  been  received  on  an 
equal  footing  until  some  valid  reason  for  ostracism 
was  forthcoming.  The  imported  limpets  on  this 
Swiss  rock  of  gentility  were  not  sure  of  their 
own  grip.  Hence,  they  strenuously  refused  to 
make  room  for  a  newcomer  until  they  were  shoved 
aside. 

Poor,    disillusioned   Helen!      When    she   went    to 


THE  BATTLEFIELD 

church  she  prayed  to  the  good  Lord  to  deliver  her 
and  everybody  else  from  envy,  hatred,  and  malice, 
and  all  uncharitableness.  She  felt  now  that  there 
might  well  be  added  to  the  Litany  a  fresh  petition 
which  should  include  British  communities  on  the  Con- 
tinent in  the  list  of  avoidable  evils. 

At  that  instant  the  piquant  face  and  figure  of 
Millicent  Jaques  rose  before  her  mind's  eye.  She 
pictured  to  herself  the  cool  effrontery  with  which 
the  actress  would  crush  these  waspish  women  by 
creating  a  court  of  every  eligible  man  in  the  place. 
It  was  not  a  healthy  thought,  but  it  was  the  off- 
spring of  sheer  vexation,  and  Helen  experienced  her 
second  temptation  that  day  when  de  la  Vere,  the 
irresistible  "  Reginald  "  of  Mrs.  Vavasour's  sketchy 
reminiscences,  came  and  asked  her  to  dance. 

She  recognized  him  at  once.  He  sat  with  Mrs.  de 
la  Vere  at  table,  and  never  spoke  to  her  unless  it 
was  strictly  necessary.  He  had  distinguished  man- 
ners, a  pleasant  voice,  and  a  charming  smile,  and 
he  seemed  to  be  the  devoted  slave  of  every  pretty 
woman  in  the  hotel  except  his  wife. 

"  Please  pardon  the  informality,"  he  said,  with 
an  affability  that  cloaked  the  impertinence.  "  We 
are  quite  a  family  party  at  Maloja.  I  hear  you  are 
staying  here  some  weeks,  and  we  are  bound  to  get 
to  know  each  other  sooner  or  later." 

Helen  could  dance  well.  She  was  so  mortified  by 
the  injustice  meted  out  to  her  that  she  almost  ac- 
cepted de  la  Vere's  partnership  on  the  spur  of  the 

115 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

moment.  But  her  soul  rebelled  against  the  man's 
covert  insolence,  and  she  said  quietly: 

"  No,  thank  you.     I  do  not  care  to  dance." 

"  May  I  sit  here  and  talk?  "  he  persisted. 

"  I  am  just  going,"  she  said,  "  and  I  think  Mrs. 
de  la  Vere  is  looking  for  you." 

By  happy  chance  the  woman  in  question  was 
standing  alone  in  the  center  of  the  ball  room,  obvi- 
ously in  quest  of  some  man  who  would  take  her  to 
the  foyer  for  a  cigarette.  Helen  retreated  with  the 
honors  of  war ;  but  the  irresistible  one  only  laughed. 

"  That  idiot  Georgie  told  the  truth,  then,"  he  ad- 
mitted. "  And  she  knows  what  the  other  women 
are  saying.  What  cats  these  dear  creatures  can  be, 
to  be  sure !  " 

Spencer  happened  to  be  an  interested  onlooker. 
Indeed,  he  was  trying  to  arrive  at  the  best  means 
of  obtaining  an  introduction  to  Helen  when  he  saw 
de  la  Vere  stroll  leisurely  up  to  her  with  the  assured 
air  of  one  sated  by  conquest.  The  girl  brushed  close 
to  him  as  he  stood  in  the  passage.  She  held  her 
head  high  and  her  eyes  were  sparkling.  He  had  not 
heard  what  was  said;  but  de  la  Vere's  discomfiture 
was  so  patent  that  even  his  wife  smiled  as  she  sailed 
out  on  the  arm  of  a  youthful  purveyor  of  cigarettes. 

Spencer  longed  for  an  opportunity  to  kick  de  la 
Vere;  yet,  in  some  sense,  he  shared  that  redoubtable 
lady-killer's  rebuff.  He  too  was  wondering  if  the 
social  life  of  a  Swiss  hotel  would  permit  him  to  seek 
a  dance  with  Helen.  Under  existing  conditions,  it 

116 


THE  BATTLEFIELD 

would  provide  quite  a  humorous  episode,  he  told  him- 
self, to  strike  up  a  friendship  with  her.  He  could 
not  imagine  why  she  had  adopted  such  an  aloof  atti- 
tude toward  all  and  sundry;  but  it  was  quite  evident 
that  she  declined  anything  in  the  guise  of  promiscu- 
ous acquaintance.  And  he,  like  her,  felt  lonely. 
There  were  several  Americans  in  the  hotel,  and  he 
would  probably  meet  some  of  the  men  in  the  bar 
or  smoking  room  after  the  dance  was  ended.  But 
he  would  have  preferred  a  pleasant  chat  with  Helen 
that  evening,  and  now  she  had  gone  to  her  room 
in  a  huff. 

Then  an  inspiration  came  to  him.  "  Guess  I'll  stir 
up  Mackenzie  to  send  along  an  introduction,"  he 
said.  "  A  telegram  will  fix  things." 

It  was  not  quite  so  easy  to  explain  matters  in  the 
curt  language  of  the  wire,  he  found,  and  it  savored 
of  absurdity  to  amaze  the  beer-drinking  Scot  with 
a  long  message.  So  he  compromised  between  desire 
and  expediency  by  a  letter. 

"  DEAR  Ma.  MACKENZIE,"  he  wrote,  "  life  is  not  rapid  at  this 
terminus.  It  might  take  on  some  new  features  if  I  had  the 
privilege  of  saying  '  How  de  do '  to  Miss  Wynton.  Will  yon 
oblige  me  by  telling  her  that  one  of  your  best  and  newest 
friends  happens  to  be  in  the  same  hotel  as  her  charming  self, 
and  that  if  she  gets  him  to  sparkle,  he  (which  is  I)  will  help 
considerable  with  copy  for  '  The  Firefly.'  Advise  me  by  same 
post,  and  the  rest  of  the  situation  is  up  to  yours  faithfully, 

"  C.  K.  S." 

The  letter  was  posted,  and  Spencer  waited  five 
tiresome  days.  He  saw  little  or  nothing  of  Helen 

117 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

save  at  meals.  Once  he  met  her  on  a  footpath  that  runs 
through  a  wood  by  the  side  of  the  lake  to  the  little 
hamlet  of  Isola,  and  he  was  minded  to  raise  his  hat, 
as  he  would  have  done  to  any  other  woman  in  the 
hotel  whom  he  encountered  under  similar  circum- 
stances; but  she  deliberately  looked  away,  and  his 
intended  courtesy  must  have  passed  unheeded. 

As  he  sedulously  avoided  any  semblance  of  dog- 
ging her  footsteps,  he  could  not  know  how  she  was 
being  persecuted  by  de  la  Vere,  Vavasour,  and  one  or 
two  other  men  of  like  habit.  That  knowledge  was 
yet  to  come.  Consequently  he  deemed  her  altogether 
too  prudish,  and  was  so  out  of  patience  with  her 
that  he  and  Stampa  went  off  for  a  two  days'  climb  by 
way  of  the  Muretto  Pass  to  Chiareggio  and  back  to 
Sils  Maria  over  the  Fex  glacier. 

Footsore  and  tired,  but  thoroughly  converted  to 
the  marvels  of  the  high  Alps,  he  reached  the  Kursaal 
side  by  side  with  the  postman  who  brought  the  chief 
English  mail  about  six  o'clock  each  evening. 

He  waited  with  an  eager  crowd  of  residents  while 
the  hall  porter  sorted  the  letters.  There  were  some 
for  him  from  America,  and  one  from  London  in  a 
handwriting  that  was  strange  to  him.  But  he  had 
quick  eyes,  and  he  saw  that  a  letter  addressed  to 
Miss  Helen  Wynton,  in  the  flamboyant  envelope  of 
"  The  Firefly,"  bore  the  same  script. 

Mackenzie  had  risen  to  the  occasion.  He  even  in- 
dulged in  a  classical  joke.  "  There  is  something  in 
the  name  of  Helen  that  attracts,"  he  said.  "  Were 

118 


THE  BATTLEFIELD 

it  not  for  the  lady  whose  face  drew  a  thousand  ships 
to  Ilium,  we  should  never  have  heard  of  Paris,  or 
Troy,  or  the  heel  of  Achilles,  and  all  these  would  be 
greatly  missed." 

"  And  I  should  never  have  heard  of  Mackenzie  or 
Maloja,"  thought  Spencer,  sinking  into  a  chair  and 
looking  about  to  learn  whether  or  not  the  girl  would 
find  her  letter  before  he  went  to  dress  for  dinner. 
He  was  sure  she  knew  his  name.  Perhaps  when  she 
read  the  editor's  note,  she  too  would  search  the  spa- 
cious lounge  with  those  fine  eyes  of  hers  for  the  man 
described  therein.  If  that  were  so,  he  meant  to  go 
to  her  instantly,  discuss  the  strangeness  of  the  coin- 
cidence that  led  to  two  of  Mackenzie's  friends  being 
at  the  hotel  at  the  same  time,  and  suggest  that  they 
should  dine  together. 

The  project  seemel  feasible,  and  it  was  decidedly 
pleasant  in  perspective.  He  longed  to  compare  notes 
with  her, — to  tell  her  the  quaint  stories  of  the  hills 
related  to  him  by  Stampa  in  a  medley  of  English, 
French,  Italian,  and  German;  perhaps  to  plan  de- 
lightful trips  to  the  fairyland  in  company. 

People  began  to  clear  away  from  the  hall  porter's 
table ;  yet  Helen  remained  invisible.  He  could  hardly 
have  missed  her;  but  to  make  certain  he  rose  and 
glanced  at  the  few  remaining  letters.  Yes,  "  The 
Firefly's  "  gaudy  imprint  still  gleamed  at  him.  He 
turned  way,  disappointed.  After  his  long  tramp  and 
a  night  in  a  weird  Italian  inn,  a  bath  was  imperative, 
and  the  boom  of  the  dressing  gong  was  imminent. 

119 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

He  was  crossing  the  hall  toward  the  elevator  when 
he  heard  her  voice. 

"  I  am  so  glad  you  are  keen  on  an  early  climb," 
she  was  saying,  with  a  new  note  of  confidence  that 
stirred  him  strangely.  "  I  have  been  longing  to 
leave  the  sign  boards  and  footpaths  far  behind,  but  I 
felt  rather  afraid  of  going  to  the  Forno  for  the  first 
time  with  a  guide.  You  see,  I  know  nothing  about 
mountaineering,  and  you  can  put  me  up  to  all  the 
dodges  beforehand." 

"  Show  you  the  ropes,  in  fact,"  agreed  the  man 
with  her,  Mark  Bower. 

Spencer  was  so  completely  taken  by  surprise  that 
he  could  only  stare  at  the  two  as  though  they  were 
ghosts.  They  had  entered  the  hotel  together,  and 
had  apparently  been  out  for  a  walk.  Helen  picked 
up  her  letter  and  held  it  carelessly  in  her  hand 
while  she  continued  to  talk  with  Bower.  Her  pleas- 
urable excitement  was  undeniable.  She  regarded  her 
companion  as  a  friend,  and  was  evidently  overjoyed 
at  his  presence.  Spencer  banged  into  the  elevator, 
astonished  the  attendant  and  two  other  occupants 
by  the  savagery  of  his  command,  "  Au  deuxieme, 
vite !  "  and  paced  through  a  long  corridor  with  noisy 
clatter  of  hob-nailed  boots. 

He  was  in  a  rare  fret  and  fume  when  he  sat  down 
to  dinner  alone.  Bower  was  at  Helen's  table.  •  It 
was  brightened  by  rare  flowers  not  often  seen  in 
sterile  Maloja.  A  bottle  of  champagne  rested  in  an 
ice  bucket  by  his  side.  He  had  brought  with  him 

120 


THE  BATTLEFIELD 

the  atmosphere  of  London,  of  the  pleasant  life  that 
London  offers  to  those  who  can  buy  her  favors. 
Truly  this  Helen,  all  unconsciously,  had  not  only 
found  the  heel  of  a  modern  Achilles,  but  was  wound- 
ing him  sorely.  For  now  Spencer  knew  that  he 
wanted  to  see  her  frank  eyes  smiling  into  his  as 
they  were  smiling  into  Bower's,  and,  no  matter  what 
turn  events  took,  a  sinister  element  had  been  thrust 
into  a  harmless  idyl  by  this  man's  arrival. 


121 


CHAPTER  VII 

SOME    SKIRMISHING 

LATER,  the  American  saw  the  two  sitting  in  the 
hall.  They  were  chatting  with  the  freedom  of  old 
friends.  Helen's  animated  face  showed  that  the  sub- 
ject of  their  talk  was  deeply  interesting.  She  was 
telling  Bower  of  the  slights  inflicted  on  her  by  the 
other  women;  but  Spencer  interpreted  her  intent 
manner  as  supplying  sufficient  proof  of  a  stronger 
emotion  than  mere  friendliness.  He  was  beginning 
to  detest  Bower. 

It  was  his  habit  to  decide  quickly  when  two  ways 
opened  before  him.  He  soon  settled  his  course  now. 
To  remain  in  the  hotel  under  present  conditions  in- 
volved a  loss  of  self  respect,  he  thought.  He  went  to 
the  bureau,  asked  for  his  account,  and  ordered  a  car- 
riage to  St.  Moritz  for  the  morrow's  fast  train  to 
England. 

The  manager  was  politely  regretful.  "  You  are 
122 


leaving  us  at  the  wrong  time,  sir,"  he  said.  "  Within 
the  next  few  days  we  ought  to  have  a  midsummer 
storm,  when  even  the  lower  hills  will  be  covered  with 
snow.  Then,  we  usually  enjoy  a  long  spell  of  mag- 
nificent weather." 

"  Sorry,"  said  Spencer.  "  I  like  the  scramble  up 
there,"  and  he  nodded  in  the  direction  of  the  Bernina 
range,  "  and  old  Stampa  is  a  gem  of  a  guide ;  but  I 
can  hardly  put  off  any  longer  some  business  that 
needs  attention  in  England.  Anyhow,  I  shall  come 
back,  perhaps  next  month.  Stampa  says  it  is  all 
right  here  in  September." 

"  Our  best  month,  I  assure  you,  and  the  ideal  time 
to  drop  down  into  Italy  when  you  are  tired  of  the 
mountains." 

"  I  must  let  it  go  at  that.  I  intend  to  fix  Stampa 
so  that  he  can  remain  here  till  the  end  of  the  sea- 
son. So  you  see  I  mean  to  return." 

"  He  was  very  fortunate  in  meeting  you,  Mr.  Spen- 
cer," said  the  manager  warmly. 

"  Well,  it  is  time  he  had  a  slice  of  luck.  I've 
taken  a  fancy  to  the  old  fellow.  One  night,  in  the 
Forno  hut,  he  told  me  something  of  his  story.  I 
guess  it  will  please  him  to  stop  at  the  Maloja  for 
awhile." 

"  He  told  3rou  about  his  daughter  ? "  came  the 
tentative  question. 

"  Not  all.  I  am  afraid  there  was  no  difficulty  in 
filling  in  the  blanks.  I  heard  enough  to  make  me 
respect  him  and  sympathize  with  his  troubles." 

123 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

The  manager  shook  his  head,  with  the  air  of  one 
who  recalls  that  which  he  would  willingly  have  for- 
gotten. "  Such  incidents  are  rare  in  Switzerland," 
he  said.  "  I  well  remember  the  sensation  her  death 
created.  She  was  such  a  pretty  girl.  The  young 
men  at  Pontresina  called  her  '  The  Edelweiss  '  because 
she  was  so  inaccessible.  In  fact,  poor  Stampa  had 
educated  her  beyond  her  station,  and  that  is  not  al- 
ways good  for  a  woman,  especially  in  these  quiet  val- 
leys, where  knowledge  of  cattle  and  garden  produce 
is  a  better  asset  than  speaking  French  and  playing 
the  piano." 

Spencer  agreed.  He  could  name  other  districts 
where  the  same  rule  held  good.  He  stood  for  a  mo- 
ment in  the  spacious  hall  to  light  a  cigar.  Invol- 
untarily he  glanced  at  Helen.  She  met  his  gaze, 
and  said  something  to  Bower  that  caused  the  latter 
also  to  turn  and  look. 

"  She  has  read  Mackenzie's  letter,"  thought  Spen- 
cer, taking  refuge  behind  a  cloud  of  smoke.  "  It 
will  be  bad  behavior  on  my  part  to  leave  the  hotel 
without  making  my  bow.  Shall  I  go  to  her  now,  or 
wait  till  morning?  " 

He  reflected  that  Helen  might  be  out  early  next 
day.  If  he  presented  his  introduction  at  once,  she 
would  probably  ask  him  to  sit  with  her  a  little  while, 
and  then  he  must  become  acquainted  with  Bower.  He 
disliked  the  notion ;  but  he  saw  no  way  out  of  it, 
unless  indeed  Helen  treated  him  with  the  chilling 
abruptness  she  meted  out  to  other  men  in  the  hotel 

124 


SOME  SKIRMISHING 

who  tried  to  become  friendly  with  her.  He  was 
weighing  the  pros  and  cons  dispassionately,  when  the 
English  chaplain  approached. 

"Do  you  play  bridge,  Mr.  Spencer?"  he  asked. 

"  I  know  the  leads,  and  call  '  without '  on  the  least 
provocation,"  was  the  reply. 

"  You  are  the  very  man  I  am  searching  for,  and 
I  have  the  authority  of  the  First  Book  of  Samuel 
in  my  quest." 

"  Well,  now,  that  is  the  last  place  in  which  I 
should  expect  to  find  my  bridge  portrait." 

"  Don't  you  remember  how  Saul's  servants  asked 
his  permission  to  *  seek  out  a  man  who  is  a  cunning 
player  '  ?  That  is  exactly  what  I  am  doing.  Come  to 
the  smoking  room.  There  are  two  other  men  there, 
and  one  is  a  fellow  countryman  of  yours." 

The  Rev.  Mr.  Hare  was  a  genial  soul,  a  Somerset- 
shire vicar  who  took  his  annual  holiday  by  accepting 
a  temporary  position  in  some  Alpine  village  where 
there  was  an  English  church.  He  did  not  dream  that 
he  was  acting  the  part  of  Hermes,  messenger  of  the 
gods,  at  that  moment,  for  indeed  his  appearance  on 
the  scene  just  then  changed  the  whole  trend  of  Spen- 
cer's actions. 

"  What  a  delightful  place  this  is ! "  he  went  on  as 
they  walked  together  through  a  long  corridor.  "  But 
what  is  the  matter  with  the  people?  They  don't  mix. 
I  would  not  have  believed  that  there  were  so  many 
prigs  in  the  British  Isles." 

Some  such  candid  opinion  had  occurred  to  Spencer ; 
125 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

but,  being  an  American,  he  thought  that  perhaps  h& 
might  be  mistaken.  "  The  English  character  is 
somewhat  adaptable  to  environment,  I  have  heard. 
That  is  why  you  send  out  such  excellent  colonists," 
he  said. 

"  Doesn't  that  go  rather  to  prove  that  everybody 
here  should  be  hail  fellow  well  met  ?  " 

"  Not  at  all.  They  take  their  pose  from  the  Alps, 
— snow,  glaciers,  hard  rock,  you  know, — that  is  the 
subtlety  of  it." 

The  vicar  laughed.  *'  You  have  given  me  a  new 
point  of  view,"  he  said.  "  Some  of  them  are  slippery 
customers  too.  Yes,  one  might  carry  the  parallel 
a  long  way.  But  here  we  are.  Now,  mind  you  cut 
me  as  a  partner.  I  have  tried  the  others,  and  found 
them  severely  critical — as  bridge  players.  You  look 
a  stoic." 

The  vicar  had  his  wish.  Spencer  and  he  opposed 
a  man  from  Pittsburg,  named  Holt,  and  Dunston,  an 
Englishman. 

While  the  latter  was  shuffling  the  cards  for  Hare's 
deal  he  said  something  that  took  one,  at  least,  of 
his  hearers  by  surprise.  "  Bower  has  turned  up,  I 
see.  What  has  brought  him  to  the  Engadine  at  this 
time  of  year  I  can't  guess,  unless  perhaps  he  is 
interested  in  a  pretty  face." 

"  At  this  time  of  the  year,"  repeated  Spencer. 
"  Isn't  this  the  season  ?  " 

"Not  for  him.  He  used  to  be  a  famous  climber; 
but  he  has  given  it  up  since  he  waxed  fat  and  pros- 

126 


SOME  SKIRMISHING 

perous.  I  have  met  him  once  or  twice  at  St.  Moritz 
in  the  winter.  Otherwise,  he  usually  shows  up  in 
the  fashionable  resorts  in  August, — Ostend,  or 
Trouville,  or,  if  he  is  livery,  Vichy  or  Aix-les-Bains, 
— anywhere  but  this  quiet  spot.  Bower  likes  excite- 
ment too.  He  often  opens  a  thousand  pound 
bank  at  baccarat,  whereas  people  are  shocked  in 
Maloja  at  seeing  Hare  play  bridge  at  tenpence  a 
hundred." 

"  I  leave  it,  partner,"  broke  in  the  vicar,  to  whom 
the  game  was  the  thing. 

"  No  trumps,"  said  Spencer,  without  giving  the 
least  heed  to  his  cards.  It  was  true  his  eyes  were 
resting  on  the  ace,  king,  and  queen  of  spades;  but 
his  mind  was  tortured  by  the  belief  that  by  his  fan- 
tastic conceit  in  sending  Helen  to  this  Alpine  fast- 
ness he  had  delivered  her  bound  to  the  vultures. 

"  Double  no  trumps,"  said  Dunston,  gloating  over 
the  possession  of  a  long  suit  of  hearts  and  three  aces. 
Hare  looked  anxious,  and  Spencer  suddenly  awoke  to 
the  situation. 

"  Satisfied,"  he  said. 

Holt  led  the  three  of  hearts,  and  Spencer  spread 
his  cards  on  the  table  with  the  gravity  of  a  Sioux 
chief.  In  addition  to  the  three  high  spades  he  held 
six  others. 

"  Really ! "  gasped  the  parson,  "  a  most  remark- 
able declaration ! " 

Yet  there  was  an  agitated  triumph  in  his  voice 
that  was  not  pleasant  hearing  for  Dunston,  who 

127 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

took  the  trick  with  the  ace  of  hearts  and  led  the 
lowest  of  a  sequence  to  the  queen. 

"  Got  him !  "  panted  Hare,  producing  the  king. 

The  rest  was  easy.  The  vicar  played  a  small  spade 
and  scored  ninety-six  points  without  any  further 
risk. 

"  It  is  magnificent ;  but  it  is  not  bridge,"  said  the 
man  from  Pittsburg.  Dunston  simply  glowered. 

"  Partner,"  demanded  Hare  timidly,  "  may  I  ask 
why  you  called  '  no  trumps  '  on  a  hand  like 
that?" 

"  Thought  I  would  give  you  a  chance  of  distin- 
guishing yourself,"  replied  Spencer.  "  Besides,  that 
sort  of  thing  rattles  your  opponents  at  the  begin- 
ning of  a  game.  Keep  your  nerve  now,  padre,  and 
you  have  'em  in  a  cleft  stick." 

As  it  happened,  Holt  made  a  "  no  trump  "  decla- 
ration on  a  very  strong  hand ;  but  Spencer  held 
seven  clubs  headed  by  the  ace  and  king. 

He  doubled.  Holt  redoubled.  Spencer  doubled 
again. 

Hare  flushed  somewhat.  "  Allow  me  to  say  that  I 
am  very  fond  of  bridge;  but  I  cannot  take  part  in 
a  game  that  savors  of  gambling,  even  for  low 
stakes,"  he  broke  in. 

"  Shall  we  let  her  go  at  forty-eight  points  a 
trick?  "  Spencer  asked. 

"  Yep !  "  snapped  Holt.     "  Got  all  the  clubs?  " 

"  Not  all — sufficient,  perhaps." 

He  played  the  ace.  Dunston  laid  the  queen  and 
128 


SOME  SKIRMISHING 

knave  on  the  table.  Spencer  scored  the  winning 
trick  before  his  adversary  obtained  an  opening. 

"  You  have  a  backbone  of  cast  steel,"  commented 
Dunston,  who  was  an  iron-master.  "  Do  you  play 
baccarat?  "  he  went  on,  with  curious  eagerness. 

*'  I  regret  to  state  that  my  education  was  com- 
pleted in  a  Western  mining  camp." 

"  Will  you  excuse  the  liberty,  and  perhaps  Mr. 
Hare  won't  listen  for  a  moment? — but  I  will  finance 
you  in  three  banks  of  a  thousand  each,  either  bank- 
ing or  punting,  if  you  promise  to  take  on  Bower. 
I  can  arrange  it  easily.  I  say  this  because  you  per- 
sonally may  not  care  to  play  for  high  sums." 

The  suggestion  was  astounding,  coming  as  it  did 
from  a  stranger;  but  Spencer  merely  said: 

"You  don't  like  Bower,  then?" 

"  That  is  so.  I  have  business  relations  with  him 
occasionally,  and  there  he  is  all  that  could  be  wished. 
But  I  have  seen  him  clean  out  more  than  one  young- 
ster ruthlessly, — force  the  play  to  too  high  stakes, 
I  mean.  I  think  you  could  take  his  measure.  Any- 
how, I  am  prepared  to  back  you." 

"  I'm  leaving  here  to-morrow." 

"  Ah,  well,  we  may  have  another  opportunity.  If 
so,  my  offer  holds." 

"  Guess  you  haven't  heard  that  Spencer  is  the 
man  who  bored  a  tunnel  through  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains? "'said  Holt. 

"  No.  You  must  tell  me  about  it.  Sorry,  Mr. 
Hare,  I  am  stopping  the  game." 

129 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

Spencer  continued  to  have  amazing  good  fortune, 
and  he  played  with  skill,  but  without  any  more  fire- 
works. At  the  close  of  the  sitting  the  vicar  said 
cheerfully : 

"  You  are  not  a  ladies'  man,  Mr.  Spencer.  You 
know  the  old  proverb, — lucky  at  cards,  unlucky  in 
love?  But  let  me  hope  that  it  does  not  apply  in  your 
case." 

"  Talking  about  a  ladies'  man,  who  is  the  girl 
your  friend  Bower  dined  with?  "  asked  Holt.  "  She 
has  been  in  the  hotel  several  days;  but  she  didn't 
seem  to  be  acquainted  with  anybody  in  particular 
until  he  blew  in  this  afternoon." 

"  She  is  a  Miss  Helen  Wynton,"  said  the  vicar. 
"  I  like  her  very  much  from  what  little  I  have  seen 
of  her.  She  attended  both  services  on  Sunday,  and 
I  happen  to  be  aware  of  the  fact  that  she  was  at 
mass  in  the  Roman  church  earlier.  I  wanted  her 
to  play  the  harmonium  next  Sunday;  but  she  de- 
clined, and  gave  me  her  reasons  too." 

"  May  I  ask  what  they  were  ?  "  inquired  Spencer. 

"  Well,  speaking  in  confidence,  they  were  griev- 
ously true.  Some  miserable  pandering  to  Mrs. 
Grundy  has  set  the  other  women  against  her;  so 
she  declined  to  thrust  herself  into  prominence.  I 
tried  to  talk  her  out  of  it,  but  failed." 

"  Who  is  Mrs.  Grundy,  anyhow  ?  "  growled  Holt. 

The  others  laughed. 

"  She  is  the  Medusa  of  modern  life,"  explained 
the  vicar.  "  She  turns  to  stone  those  who  gaze  on 

130 


her.  Most  certainly  she  petrifies  all  good  feeling 
and  Christian  tolerance.  Why,  I  actually  heard  a 
woman  whose  conduct  is  not  usually  governed  by 
what  I  hold  to  be  good  taste  sneer  at  Miss  Wynton 
this  evening.  '  The  murder  is  out  now,'  she  said. 
'  Bower's  presence  explains  everything.'  Yet  I  am 
able  to  state  that  Miss  Wynton  was  quite  unpre- 
pared for  his  arrival.  By  chance  I  was  standing 
on  the  steps  when  he  drove  up  to  the  hotel,  and 
it  was  perfectly  clear  from  the  words  they  used 
that  neither  was  aware  that  the  other  was  in 
Maloja." 

Spencer  leaned  over  toward  the  iron-master. 
"  Tell  you  what,"  he  said ;  "  I've  changed  my  mind 
about  the  trip  to  England  to-morrow.  Get  up  that 
game  with  Bower.  I'll  stand  the  racket  myself  un- 
less you  want  to  go  half  shares." 

"  Done !  I  should  like  to  have  an  interest  in  it. 
Not  that  I  am  pining  for  Bower's  money,  and  it 
may  be  that  he  will  win  ours ;  but  I  am  keen  on  giv- 
ing him  a  sharp  run.  At  Nice  last  January  not  a 
soul  in  the  Casino  would  go  Banco  when  he  opened 
a  big  bank.  They  were  afraid  of  him." 

While  he  was  speaking,  Dunston's  shrewd  eyes 
dwelt  on  the  younger  man's  unmoved  face.  He  won- 
dered what  had  caused  this  sudden  veering  of  pur- 
pose. It  was  certainly  not  the  allurement  of  heavy 
gambling,  for  Spencer  had  declined  the  proposal 
as  coolly  as  he  now  accepted  it.  Being  a  man  of 
the  world,  he  thought  he  could  peer  beneath  the 

131 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

mask.  To  satisfy  himself,  he  harked  back  to  the 
personal  topic. 

"  By  the  way,  does  anyone  know  who  Miss  Wyn- 
ton  is?"  he  said.  "That  inveterate  gossip,  Mrs. 
Vavasour,  who  can  vouch  for  every  name  in  the  Red 
Book,  says  she  is  a  lady  journalist." 

"  That,  at  any  rate,  is  correct,"  said  the  vicar. 
"  In  fact,  Miss  Wynton  herself  told  me  so." 

"  Jolly  fine  girl,  whatever  she  is.  To  give 
Bower  his  due,  he  has  always  been  a  person  of 
taste." 

"  I  have  reason  to  believe,"  said  Spencer,  "  that 
Miss  Wynton's  acquaintance  with  Mr.  Bower  is  of 
the  slightest." 

His  words  were  slow  and  clear.  Dunston,  sure 
now  that  his  guess  was  fairly  accurate,  hastened 
to  efface  an  unpleasant  impression. 

"  Of  course,  I  only  meant  that  if  Bower  is  seen 
talking  to  any  woman,  it  may  be  taken  for  granted 
that  she  is  a  pretty  one,"  he  explained.  "  But  who's 
for  a  drink?  Perhaps  we  shall  meet  our  expected 
opponent  in  the  bar,  Mr.  Spencer." 

"  I  have  some  letters  to  write.  Fix  that  game 
for  to-morrow  or  next  day,  and  I'll  be  on  hand." 

Dunston  and  Holt  paid  the  few  shillings  they 
owed,  and  went  out. 

Hare  did  not  move.  He  looked  anxious,  almost 
annoyed.  "  It  is  exceedingly  ridiculous  how  cir- 
cumstances pass  beyond  a  man's  control  occasion- 
ally," he  protested.  "  Am  I  right  in  assuming  that 

132 


SOME  SKIRMISHING 

until  this  evening  neither  Bower  nor  Dunston  was 
known  to  you,  Mr.  Spencer?" 

"  Absolutely  correct,  vicar.  I  have  never  yet 
spoken  to  Bower,  and  you  heard  all  that  passed 
between  Dunston  and  myself." 

"  Then  my  harmless  invitation  to  you  to  join 
in  a  game  at  cards  has  led  directly  to  an  arrange- 
ment for  play  at  absurdly  high  figures  ?  " 

"  It  seems  to  me,  Mr.  Hare,  that  Bower's  tracks 
and  mine  are  destined  to  cross  in  more  ways  than 
ore  in  the  near  future,"  said  Spencer  coolly. 

But  the  vicar  was  not  to  be  switched  away  from 
the  new  thought  that  was  troubling  him.  "  I  will 
not  ask  what  you  mean,"  he  said,  gazing  steadfastly 
at  the  American.  "  My  chief  concern  is  the  out- 
come of  my  share  in  this  evening's  pleasant  amuse- 
ment. I  cannot  shut  my  ears  to  the  fact  that  you 
have  planned  the  loss  or  gain  of  some  thousands 
of  pounds  on  the  turn  of  a  card  at  baccarat." 

"  If  it  is  disagreeable  to  you " 

"  How  can  it  be  otherwise  ?  I  am  a  broad-minded 
man,  and  I  see  no  harm  whatever  in  playing  bridge 
for  pennies;  but  I  am  more  pained  than  I  care  to 
confess  at  the  prospect  of  such  a  sequel  to  our 
friendly  meeting  to-night.  If  this  thing  happens, — 
if  a  small  fortune  is  won  or  lost  merely  to  gratify 
Dunston's  whim, — I  assure  you  that  I  shall  never 
touch  a  card  again  as  long  as  I  live." 

Then  Spencer  laughed.  "  That  would  be  too 
bad,  Mr.  Hare,"  he  cried.  "  Make  your  mind  easy. 

133 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

The  game  is  off.  Count  on  me  for  the  tenpence 
a  hundred  limit  after  dinner  to-morrow." 

"  Now,  that  is  quite  good  and  kind  of  you. 
Dunston  made  me  very  miserable  by  his  mad  propo- 
sition. Of  course,  both  he  and  Bower  are  rich  men, 
men  to  whom  a  few  thousand  pounds  are  of  little 
importance;  or,  to  be  accurate,  they  profess  not 
to  care  whether  they  win  or  lose,  though  their  wealth 
is  not  squandered  so  heedlessly  when  it  is  wanted  for 
some  really  deserving  object.  But  perhaps  that 
is  uncharitable.  My  only  wish  is  to  thank  you 
from  the  bottom  of  my  heart  for  your  generous 
promise." 

"  Is  Bower  so  very  rich  then  ?  Have  you  met 
him  before?  " 

"  He  is  a  reputed  millionaire.  I  read  of  him  in 
the  newspapers  at  times.  In  my  small  country  par- 
ish such  financial  luminaries  twinkle  from  a  far  sky. 
It  is  true  he  is  a  recent  light.  He  made  a  great 
deal  of  money  in  copper,  I  believe." 

"  What  kind  of  character  do  you  give  him, — 
good,  bad,  or  indifferent?" 

Hare's  benevolent  features  showed  the  astonish- 
ment that  thrilled  him  at  this  blunt  question.  "  I 
hardly  know  what  to  say "  he  stammered. 

Spencer  liked  this  cheery  vicar  and  resolved  to 
trust  him.  "  Let  me  explain,"  he  said.  "  You  and 
I  agree  in  thinking  that  Miss  Wynton  is  an  uncom- 
monly nice  girl.  I  am  not  on  her  visiting  list  at 
present,  so  my  judgment  is  altruistic.  Suppose  she 


was  your  daughter  or  niece,  would  you  care  to  see 
her  left  to  that  man's  mercies  ?  " 

The  clergyman  fidgeted  a  little  before  he  an- 
swered. Spencer  was  a  stranger  to  him,  yet  he  felt 
drawn  toward  him.  The  strong,  clear  cut  face  won 
confidence.  "  If  it  was  the  will  of  Heaven,  I  would 
sooner  see  her  in  the  grave,"  he  said,  with  solemn 
candor. 

Spencer  rose.  He  held  out  his  hand.  "  I  guess 
it's  growing  late,"  he  cried,  "  and  our  talk  has  swung 
round  to  a  serious  point.  Sleep  well,  Mr.  Hare. 
That  game  is  dead  off." 

As  he  passed  the  bar  he  heard  Bower's  smooth, 
well  rounded  accents  through  the  half-open  door. 
"  Nothing  I  should  like  better,"  he  was  saying. 
"Are  you  tired?  If  not,  bring  your  friend  to  my 
rooms  now.  Although  I  have  been  in  the  train  all 
night,  I  am  fit  as  a  fiddle." 

"  Let  me  see.  I  left  him  in  the  smoking  room 
with  our  padre " 

It  was  Dunston  who  spoke;  but  Bower  broke  in: 

"  Oh,  keep  the  clergy  out  of  it !  They  make  such 
a  song  about  these  things  if  they  hear  of  them." 

"  I  was  going  to  say  that  if  he  is  not  there  he 
will  be  in  his  room.  He  is  two  doors  from  me,  No. 
61,  I  think.  Shall  I  fetch  him?  " 

"  Do,  by  all  means.  By  Jove !  I  didn't  expect  to 
get  any  decent  play  here ! " 

Spencer  slipped  into  a  small  vestibule  where  he 
had  left  a  hat  and  overcoat.  He  remained  there  till 

135 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

Dunston  crossed  the  hall  and  entered  the  elevator. 
Then  he  went  out,  meaning  to  stroll  and  smoke  in 
the  moonlight  for  an  hour.  It  would  be  easier  to 
back  out  of  the  promised  game  in  the  morning  than 
at  that  moment.  Moreover,  in  the  clear,  still  air 
he  could  plan  a  course  of  action,  the  need  of  which 
was  becoming  insistent. 

He  was  blessed,  or  cursed,  with  a  stubborn  will, 
and  he  knew  it.  Hitherto,  it  had  been  exercised  on  a 
theory  wrapped  in  hard  granite,  and  the  granite  had 
yielded,  justifying  the  theory.  Now  he  was  brought 
face  to  face  with  a  woman's  temperament,  and  his 
experience  of  that  elusive  and  complex  mixture  of 
attributes  was  of  the  slightest.  Attractive  young 
women  in  Colorado  are  plentiful  as  cranberries ;  but 
never  one  of  them  had  withdrawn  his  mind's  eye 
from  his  work.  Why,  then,  was  he  so  ready  now 
to  devote  his  energies  to  the  safeguarding  of  Helen 
Wynton?  It  was  absurd  to  pretend  that  he  was 
responsible  for  her  future  well-being  because  of  the 
whim  that  sent  her  on  a  holiday.  She  was  well  able 
to  take  care  of  herself.  She  had  earned  her  own 
living  before  he  met  her;  she  had  risen  imperiously 
above  the  petty  malice  displayed  by  some  of  the 
residents  in  the  hotel;  there  was  a  reasonable  proba- 
bility that  she  might  become  the  wife  of  a  man 
highly  placed  and  wealthy.  Every  consideration 
told  in  favor  of  a  policy  of  non-interference.  The 
smoking  of  an  inch  of  good  cigar  placed  the  matter 
in  such  a  convincing  light  that  Spencer  was  half 

136 


SOME  SKIRMISHING 

resolved  to  abide  by  his  earlier  decision  and  leave 
Maloja  next  morning. 

But  the  other  half,  made  up  of  inclination, 
pleaded  against  all  the  urging  of  expediency.  He 
deemed  the  vicar  an  honest  man,  and  that  stout- 
hearted phrase  of  his  stuck.  Yet,  whether  he  went 
or  stayed,  the  ultimate  solution  of  the  problem  lay 
with  Helen  herself.  Once  on  speaking  terms  with 
her,  he  could  form  a  more  decided  view.  It  was 
wonderful  how  one's  estimate  of  a  man  or  woman 
could  be  modified  in  the  course  of  a  few  minutes' 
conversation.  Well,  he  would  settle  things  that 
way,  and  meanwhile  enjoy  the  beauty  of  a  wondrous 
night. 

A  full  moon  was  flooding  the  landscape  with  a 
brilliance  not  surpassed  in  the  crystal  atmosphere 
of  Denver.  The  snow  capped  summit  of  the  Cima 
di  Rosso  was  fit  to  be  a  peak  in  Olympus,  a  silver 
throned  height  where  the  gods  sat  in  council.  The 
brooding  pines  perched  on  the  hillside  beyond  the 
Orlegna  looked  like  a  company  of  gigantic  birds  with 
folded  wings.  From  the  road  leading  to  the  village 
he  could  hear  the  torrent  itself  singing  its  mad  song 
of  freedom  after  escaping  from  the  icy  caverns  of 
the  Forno  glacier.  Quite  near,  on  the  right,  the 
tiny  cascade  that  marks  the  first  seaward  flight  of 
the  Inn  mingled  its  sweet  melody  with  the  orchestral 
thunder  of  the  more  distant  cataracts  plunging 
down  the  precipices  toward  Italy.  It  was  a  night 
when  one  might  listen  to  the  music  of  the  spheres, 

137 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

and  Spencer  was  suddenly  jarred  into  unpleasant 
consciousness  of  his  surroundings  by  the  raucous 
voices  of  some  peasants  bawling  a  Romansch  ballad 
in  a  wayside  wine  house. 

Turning  sharply  on  his  heel,  he  took  the  road  by 
the  lake.  There  at  least  he  would  find  peace  from 
the  strenuous  amours  of  Margharita  as  trolled  by 
the  revelers.  He  had  not  gone  three  hundred  yards 
before  he  saw  a  woman  standing  near  the  low  wall 
that  guarded  the  embanked  highway  from  the  wa- 
ter. She  was  looking  at  the  dark  mirror  of  the  lake, 
and  seemed  to  be  identifying  the  stars  reflected  in  it. 
Three  or  four  times,  as  he  approached,  she  tilted 
her  head  back  and  gazed  at  the  sky.  The  skirt  of 
a  white  dress  was  visible  below  a  heavy  ulster;  a 
knitted  shawl  was  wrapped  loosely  over  her  hair 
and  neck,  and  the  ends  were  draped  deftly  across 
her  shoulders;  but  before  she  turned  to  see  who  was 
coming  along  the  road  Spencer  had  recognized  her. 
Thus,  in  a  sense,  he  was  a  trifle  the  more  prepared 
of  the  two  for  this  unforeseen  meeting,  and  he  hailed 
it  as  supplying  the  answer  to  his  doubts. 

"  Now,"  said  he  to  himself,  "  I  shall  know  in  ten 
seconds  whether  or  not  I  travel  west  by  north  to- 
morrow." 

Helen  did  not  avert  her  glance  instantly.  Nor 
did  she  at  once  resume  a  stroll  evidently  interrupted 
to  take  in  deep  breaths  of  the  beauty  of  the  scene. 
That  was  encouraging  to  the  American, — she  ex- 
pected him  to  speak  to  her. 

138 


SOME  SKIRMISHING 

He  halted  in  the  middle  of  the  road.  If  he  was 
mistaken,  he  did  not  wish  to  alarm  her.  "  If  you 
will  pardon  the  somewhat  unorthodox  time  and  place, 
I  should  like  to  make  myself  known  to  you,  Miss 
Wynton,"  he  said,  lifting  his  cap. 

"  You  are  Mr.  Spencer?  "  she  answered,  with  a 
frank  smile. 

"  Yes,  I  have  a  letter  of  introduction  from  Mr. 
Mackenzie." 

"  So  have  I.  What  do  we  do  next?  Exchange 
letters?  Mine  is  in  the  hotel." 

"Suppose  we  just  shake?" 

"  Well,  that  is  certainly  the  most  direct  way." 

Their  hands  met.  They  were  both  aware  of  a 
whiff  of  nervousness.  For  some  reason,  the  com- 
monplace greetings  of  politeness  fell  awkwardly 
from  their  lips.  In  such  a  predicament  a  woman  may 
always  be  trusted  to  find  the  way  out. 

"  It  is  rather  absurd  that  we  should  be  saying 
how  pleased  we  are  that  Mr.  Mackenzie  thought 
of  writing  those  letters,  while  in  reality  I  am 
horribly  conscious  that  I  ought  not  to  be  here 
at  all,  and  you  are  probably  thinking  that  I  am 
quite  an  amazing  person,"  and  Helen  laughed  light 
heartedly.  ,» 

"  That  is  part  of  my  thought,"  said  Spencer. 

"  Won't  you  tell  me  the  remainder?  " 

"May  I?" 

"  Please  do.     I  am  in  chastened  mood." 

"  I  wish  I  was  skilled  in  the  trick  of  words,  then 
189 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

I  might  say  something  real  cute.  As  it  is,  I  can  onlj 
supply  a  sort  of  condensed  statement, — something 
about  a  nymph,  a  moonlit  lake,  the  spirit  of  the 
glen, — nice  catchy  phrases  every  one, — with  a  line 
thrown  in  from  Shelley  about  an  '  orbed  maiden  with 
white  fire  laden.'  Let  me  go  back  a  hundred  yards, 
Miss  Wynton,  and  I  shall  return  with  the  whole  thing 
in  order." 

"  With  such  material  I  believe  you  would  bring 
me  a  sonnet." 

"  No.  I  hail  from  the  wild  and  woolly  West, 
where  life  itself  is  a  poem;  so  I  stick  to  prose. 
There  is  a  queer  sort  of  kink  in  human  nature  to 
account  for  that." 

"  On  the  principle  that  a  Londoner  never  hears 
the  roar  of  London,  I  suppose?" 

*'  Exactly.  An  old  lady  I  know  once  came  across 
a  remarkable  instance  of  it.  She  watched  a  ship- 
wreck, the  real  article,  with  all  the  scenic  accessories, 
and  when  a  half  drowned  sailor  was  dragged  ashore 
she  asked  him  how  he  felt  at  that  awful  moment. 
And  what  do  you  think  he  said  ?  " 

"  Very  wet,"  laughed  Helen. 

"  No,  that  is  the  other  story.  This  man  said 
he  was  very  dry." 

"  Ah,  the  one  step  from  the  sublime  to  the  ridicu- 
lous, which  reminds  me  that  if  I  remain  here  much 
longer  talking  nonsense  I  shall  lose  the  good  opinion 
I  am  sure  you  have  formed  of  me  from  Mr.  Macken- 
zie's letter.  Why,  it  must  be  after  eleven  o'clock! 

140 


SOME  SKIRMISHING 

Are  you  going  any  farther,  or  will  you  walk  with 
me  to  the  hotel?" 

"  If  you  will  allow  me ' 

"  Indeed,  I  shall  be  very  glad  of  your  company. 
I  came  out  to  escape  my  own  thoughts.  Did  you 
ever  meet  such  an  unsociable  lot  of  people  as  our 
felloe  boarders,  Mr.  Spencer?  If  it  was  not  for 
my  work,  and  the  fact  that  I  have  taken  my  room 
for  a  month,  I  should  hie  me  forthwith  to  the  beaten 
track  of  the  vulgar  but  good  natured  tourist." 

"  Why  not  go  ?  Let  me  help  you  to-morrow  to 
map  out  a  tour.  Then  I  shall  know  precisely  where 
to  waylay  you,  for  I  feel  the  chill  here  too." 

"  I  wish  I  could  fall  in  with  the  first  part  of  your 
proposal,  though  the  second  rather  suggests  that 
you  regard  Mr.  Mackenzie's  letter  of  introduction 
as  a  letter  of  marque." 

"  At  any  rate,  I  am  an  avowed  pirate,"  he  could 
not  help  retorting.  "  But  to  keep  strictly  to  busi- 
ness, why  not  quit  if  you  feel  like  wandering?  " 

"  Because  I  was  sent  here,  on  a  journalistic  mis- 
sion which  I  understand  less  now  than  when  I  re- 
ceived it  in  London.  Of  course,  I  am  delighted  with 
the  place.  It  is  the  people  I — kick  at?  Is  that  a 
quite  proper  Americanism?" 

"  It  seems  to  fit  the  present  case  like  a  glove,  or 
may  I  say,  like  a  shoe  ?  " 

"  Now  you  are  laughing  at  me,  inwardly  of 
course,  and  I  agree  with  you.  Ladies  should  not 
use  slang,  nor  should  they  promenade  alone  in  Swiss 

141 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

valleys  by  moonlight.  My  excuse  is  that  I  did  not 
feel  sleepy,  and  the  moon  tempted  me.  Good  night." 

They  were  yet  some  little  distance  from  the  hotel, 
and  Spencer  was  at  a  loss  to  account  for  this  sud- 
den dismissal.  She  saw  the  look  of  bewilderment  in 
his  face. 

"  I  have  found  a  back  stairs  door,"  she  explained, 
with  a  smile.  "  I  really  don't  think  I  should  have 
dared  to  come  out  at  half-past  ten  if  I  had  to  pass 
the  Gorgons  in  the  foyer." 

She  flitted  away  by  a  side  path,  leaving  Spencer 
more  convinced  than  ever  that  he  had  blundered 
egregiously  in  dragging  this  sedate  and  charming 
girl  from  the  quiet  round  of  existence  in  London  to 
the  artificial  life  of  the  Kursaal.  Some  feeling  of 
unrest  had  driven  her  forth  to  commune  with  the 
stars.  Was  she  asking  herself  why  she  was  denied 
the  luxuries  showered  on  the  doll-like  creatures  whose 
malicious  tongues  were  busy  the  instant  Bower  set 
foot  in  the  hotel?  It  would  be  an  ill  outcome  of 
his  innocent  subterfuge  if  she  returned  to  England 
discontented  and  rebellious.  She  was  in  "  chastened 
mood,"  she  had  said.  He  wondered  why?  Had 
Bower  been  too  confident, — too  sure  of  his  prey 
to  guard  his  tongue?  Of  all  the  unlocked  for  devel- 
opments that  could  possibly  be  bound  up  with  the 
harmless  piece  of  midsummer  madness  that  sent 
Helen  Wynton  to  Switzerland,  surely  this  roue's 
presence  was  the  most  irritating  and  perplexing. 

Then   from  the  road  came  another  stanza  from 


SOME  SKIRMISHING 

the  wine  bibbers,  now  homeward  bound.  They  were 
still  howling  about  Margharita  in  long  sustained 
cadences.  And  Spencer  knew  his  Faust.  It  was  to 
the  moon  that  the  lovesick  maiden  confided  her 
dreams,  and  Mephisto  was  at  hand  to  jog  the  elbow 
of  his  bewitched  philosopher  at  exactly  the  right 
moment. 

Spencer  threw  his  cigar  into  the  gurgling  rivulet 
of  the  Inn.  He  condemned  Switzerland,  and  the 
Upper  Engadine,  and  the  very  great  majority  of 
the  guests  in  the  Kursaal,  in  one  emphatic  maledic- 
tion, and  went  to  his  room,  hoping  to  sleep,  but  ac- 
tually to  lie  awake  for  hours  and  puzzle  his  brains 
in  vain  effort  to  evolve  a  satisfying  sequel  to  the 
queer  combination  of  events  he  had  set  in  motion 
when  he  ran  bare  headed  into  the  Strand  after 
Bower's  motor  car. 


143 


CHAPTER  VIII 

SHADOWS 

*'  IT  is  a  glorious  morning.  If  the  weather  holds, 
your  first  visit  to  the  real  Alps  should  be  memo- 
rable," said  Bower. 

Helen  had  just  descended  the  long  flight  of  steps 
in  front  of  the  hotel.  A  tender  purple  light  filled 
the  valley.  The  nearer  hills  were  silhouetted  boldly 
against  a  sky  of  primrose  and  pink;  but  the  misty 
depths  where  the  lake  lurked  beneath  the  pines  had 
not  yet  yielded  wholly  to  the  triumph  of  the  new 
day.  The  air  had  a  cold  life  in  it  that  invigorated 
while  it  chilled.  It  resembled  some  vin  frappe  of 
rare  vintage.  Its  fragrant  vivacity  was  ready  to 
burst  forth  at  the  first  encouraging  hint  of  a  kind- 
lier temperature. 

"  Why  that  dubious  clause  as  to  the  weather?  " 
asked  Helen,  looking  at  the  golden  shafts  of  sun- 
light on  the  topmost  crags  of  Corvatsch  and  the  Piz 

144 


SHADOWS 

della  Margna.  Those  far  off  summits  were  so  star- 
tlingly  vivid  in  outline  that  they  seemed  to  be  more 
accessible  than  the  mist  shrouded  ravines  cleaving 
their  dun  sides.  It  needed  an  effort  of  the  imagina- 
tion to  correct  the  erring  testimony  of  the  eye. 

"  The  moods  of  the  hills  are  variable,  my  lady, — 
femininely  fickle,  in  fact.  There  is  a  proverb  that 
contrasts  the  wind  with  woman's  mind;  but  the  dis- 
illusioned male  who  framed  it  evidently  possessed 
little  knowledge  of  weather  changes  in  the  high  Alps, 
or  else  he " 

"  Did  you  beguile  me  out  of  my  cozy  room  at  six 
o'clock  on  a  frosty  morning  to  regale  me  with  stale 
jibes  at  my  sex?  " 

"  Perish  the  thought,  Miss  Wynton !  My  only 
intent  was  to  explain  that  the  ancient  proverb 
maker,  meaning  to  be  rude,  might  have  found  a  bet- 
ter simile." 

"  Meanwhile,  I  am  so  cold  that  the  only  mood  left 
in  my  composition  is  one  of  impatience  to  be 
moving." 

"  Well,  I  am  ready." 

"  But  where  is  our  guide  ?  " 

"  He  has  gone  on  in  front  with  the  porter." 

"Porter!    What  is  the  man  carrying?" 

"  The  wherewithal  to  refresh  ourselves  when  we 
reach  the  hut." 

"  Oh,"  said  Helen,  "  I  had  no  idea  that  mountain- 
eering was  such  a  business.  I  thought  the  essential* 
were  a  packet  of  sandwiches  and  a  flask." 

145 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

"  You  will  please  not  be  flippant.  Climbing  is 
serious  work.  And  you  must  moderate  your  pace. 
If  you  walk  at  that  rate  from  here  to  Forno, 
you  will  be  very,  very  ill  before  you  reach  the 
hut." 

"  111 !     How  absurd !  " 

"  Not  only  absurd  but  disagreeable, — far  worse 
than  crossing  the  Channel.  Even  old  hands  like  me 
are  not  free  from  mountain  sickness,  though  it  seizes 
us  at  higher  altitudes  than  we  shall  reach  to-day.  In 
the  case  of  a  novice,  anything  in  the  nature  of  hur- 
rying during  the  outward  journey  is  an  unfailing 
factor." 

They  were  crossing  the  golf  links,  and  the  smooth 
path  was  tempting  to  a  good  walker.  Helen  smiled 
as  she  accommodated  herself  to  Bower's  slower  stride. 
Though  the  man  might  possess  experience,  the  woman 
had  the  advantage  of  youth,  the  unattainable,  and 
this  wonderful  hour  after  dawn  was  stirring  its 
ichor  in  her  veins. 

"  I  suppose  that  is  what  Stampa  meant  when  he 
took  '  Slow  and  Sure '  for  his  motto,"  she  said. 

"  Stampa !    Who  is  Stampa?  " 

There  was  a  sudden  rasp  of  iron  in  his  voice.  As 
a  rule  Bower  spoke  with  a  cultivated  languor  that 
almost  veiled  the  staccato  accents  of  the  man  of 
affairs.  Helen  was  so  surprised  by  this  unwarranted 
clang  of  anger  that  she  looked  at  him  with  wide 
open  eyes. 

"  He  is  the  driver  I  told  you  of,  the  man  who  took 
146 


SHADOWS 

the  wheel  off  my  carriage  during  the  journey  from 
St.  Moritz,"  she  explained. 

"  Oh,  of  course.  How  stupid  of  me  to  forget ! 
But,  by  the  way,  did  you  mention  his  name?  " 

"  No,  I  think  not.  Someone  interrupted  me.  Mr. 
Dunston  came  and  spoke  to  you " 

He  laughed  gayly  and  drew  in  deep  breaths  of  the 
keen  air.  He  was  carrying  his  ice  ax  over  his  left 
shoulder.  With  his  right  hand  he  brushed  away  a 
disturbing  thought.  "  By  Jove !  yes !  Dunston 
dragged  me  off  to  open  a  bank  at  baccarat,  and  you 
will  be  glad  to  hear  that  I  won  five  hundred  pounds." 

"  I  am  glad  you  won ;  but  who  lost  so  much 
money?  " 

"  Dunston  dropped  the  greater  part  of  it.  Your 
American  friend,  Mr.  Spencer,  was  rather  inclined 
to  brag  of  his  prowess  in  that  direction,  it  appears. 
He  even  went  so  far  as  to  announce  his  willingness 
to  play  for  four  figures;  but  he  backed  out  of  it." 

"  Do  you  mean  that  Mr.  Spencer  wanted  to  stake 
a  thousand  pounds  on  a  single  game  at  cards?  " 

"  Evidently  he  did  not  want  to  do  it,  but  he  talked 
about  it." 

"  Yet  he  impressed  me  as  being  a  very  clear-headed 
and  sensible  young  man,"  said  Helen  decisively. 

"  Here,  young  lady,  I  must  call  you  to  account ! 
In  what  category  do  you  place  me,  then  ?  " 

"  Oh,  you  are  different.  I  disapprove  of  anyone 
.playing  for  such  high  stakes ;  but  I  suppose  you 
are  used  to  it  and  can  afford  it,  whereas  a  man  who 

147 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

has  his  way  to  make  in  the  world  would  be  exceed- 
ingly foolish  to  do  such  a  thing." 

"  Pray,  how  did  you  come  to  measure  the  extent 
of  Spencer's  finances?  " 

"  Dear  me!     Did  I  say  that?  " 

"  I  am  sorry.  Of  course,  I  had  no  wish  to  speak 
offensively.  What  I  mean  is  that  he  may  be  quite  as 
well  able  to  run  a  big  bank  at  baccarat  as  I  am." 

"  He  was  telling  me  yesterday  of  his  early  strug- 
gles to  gain  a  footing  in  some  mining  community  in 
Colorado,  and  the  impression  his  words  left  on  me 
was  that  he  is  still  far  from  wealthy ;  that  is,  as  one 
understands  the  term.  Here  we  are  at  the  footpath. 
Shall  we  follow  it  and  scramble  up  out  of  the  ra- 
vine, or  do  you  prefer  the  carriage  road?  " 

"  The  footpath,  please.  But  before  we  drop  the 
subject  of  cards,  which  is  unquestionably  out  of 
place  on  a  morning  like  this,  let  me  say  that  per- 
haps I  have  done  the  American  an  injustice. 
Dunston  is  given  to  exaggeration.  He  has  so  lit- 
tle control  over  his  face  that  it  is  rank  robbery  to 
bet  with  him.  Such  a  man  is  apt  to  run  to  extremes. 
It  may  be  that  Spencer  was  only  talking  through 
his  hat,  as  they  say  in  New  York." 

Helen  had  the  best  of  reasons  for  rejecting  this 
version  of  the  story.  Her  perceptive  faculties,  al- 
ways well  developed,  were  strung  to  high  tension  in 
Maloja.  The  social  pinpricks  inflicted  there  had 
rendered  her  more  alert,  more  cautious,  than  was  her 
wont.  She  was  quite  sure,  for  instance,  judging 

148 


SHADOWS 

from  a  number  of  slight  indications,  that  Spencer 
was  deliberately  avoiding  any  opportunity  of  mak- 
ing Bower's  acquaintance.  More  than  once,  when  an 
introduction  seemed  to  be  imminent,  the  American 
effaced  himself.  Other  men  in  the  hotel  were  not  like 
that — they  rather  sought  the  great  man's  company. 
She  wondered  if  Bower  had  noticed  it.  Despite  his 
candid,  almost  generous,  disclaimer  of  motive,  there 
was  an  undercurrent  of  hostility  in  his  words  that 
suggested  a  feeling  of  pique.  She  climbed  the  rocky 
path  in  silence  until  Bower  spoke  again. 

"  How  do  the  boots  go  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Splendidly,  thanks.  It  was  exceedingly  kind 
of  you  to  take  such  trouble  about  them.  I  had  no 
idea  one  had  to  wear  such  heavy  nails,  and  that 
tip  of  yours  about  the  extra  stockings  is  excellent." 

"  You  will  acknowledge  the  benefit  most  during 
the  descent.  I  have  known  people  become  abso- 
lutely lame  on  the  home  journey  through  wearing 
boots  only  just  large  enough  for  ordinary  walking. 
As  for  the  clamping  of  the  nails  over  the  edges  of 
the  soles,  the  sharp  stones  render  that  imperative. 
When  you  have  crossed  a  moraine  or  two,  and  a 
peculiarly  nasty  geroll  that  exists  beyond  the  hut, 
if  we  have  time  to  make  an  easy  ascent,  you  will 
understand  the  need  of  extra  strong  footwear." 

Helen  favored  him  with  a  shy  smile.  "  Long  hours 
of  reading  have  revealed  the  nature  of  a  moraine,'* 
she  said ;  "  but,  please,  what  is  a  geroll?  " 

"  A  slope  of  loose  stones.     Let  me  see,  what  do 

149 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

they  call  it  in  Scotland  and  Cumberland?  Ah,  yes, 
a  scree.  On  the  French  side  of  the  Alps  the  same 
thing  is  known  as  a  casse." 

"  How  well  you  know  this  country  and  its  ways ! 
Have  you  climbed  many  of  the  well  known  peaks?  " 

"  Some  years  ago  I  scored  my  century  beyond 
twelve  thousand  feet.  That  is  pretty  fair  for  an 
amateur." 

"  Have  you  done  the  Matterhorn  ?  " 

"  Yes,  four  times.  Once  I  followed  Tyndall's  ex- 
ample, and  converted  the  summit  into  a  pass  be- 
tween Switzerland  and  Italy." 

"  How  delightful !  I  suppose  you  have  met  many 
of  the  famous  guides  ?  " 

He  laughed  pleasantly.  "  One  does  not  attempt 
the  Cervin  or  the  Jungfrau  without  the  best  men, 
and  in  my  time  there  were  not  twenty,  all  told.  I 
had  a  long  talk  with  our  present  guide  last  night, 
and  found  I  had  used  many  a  track  he  had  only  seen 
from  the  valley." 

"  Then " 

A  loud  toot  on  a  cowhorn  close  at  hand  inter- 
rupted her.  The  artist  was  a  small  boy.  He  ap- 
peared to  be  waiting  expectantly  on  a  hillock  for 
someone  who  came  not. 

"  Is  that  a  signal?  "  she  asked. 

"  Yes.  He  is  a  gaumer,  or  cowherd, — another 
word  for  your  Alpine  vocabulary, — the  burgher 
whose  cattle  he  will  drive  to  the  pasture  has  probably 
arranged  to  meet  him  here." 

150 


SHADOWS 

Bower  was  always  an  interesting  and  well  informed 
companion.  Launched  now  into  a  congenial  topic, 
he  gave  Helen  a  thoroughly  entertaining  lecture  on 
the  customs  of  a  Swiss  commune.  He  pointed  out 
the  successive  tiers  of  pastures,  told  her  their  names 
and  seasons  of  use,  and  even  hummed  some  verses  of 
the  cow  songs,  or  Kuh-reihen,  which  the  men  sing  to 
the  cattle,  addressing  each  animal  by  name. 

An  hour  passed  pleasantly  in  this  manner.  Their 
guide,  a  man  named  Josef  Barth,  and  the  porter, 
who  answered  to  "  Karl,"  awaited  them  at  the  milk 
chalet  by  the  side  of  Lake  Cavloccio.  Bower,  evi- 
dently accustomed  to  the  leadership  of  expeditions 
of  this  sort,  tested  their  ice  axes  and  examined  the 
ropes  slung  to  Earth's  rucksack. 

"  The  Forno  is  a  glacier  de  luxe"  he  explained  to 
Helen ;  "  but  it  is  always  advisable  to  make  sure  that 
your  appliances  are  in  good  order.  That  pickel  you 
are  carrying  was  made  by  the  best  blacksmith  in 
Grindelwald,  and  you  can  depend  on  its  soundness; 
but  these  men  are  so  familiar  with  their  surround- 
ings that  they  often  provide  themselves  with  frayed 
ropes  and  damaged  axes." 

"  In  addition  to  my  boots,  therefore,  I  am  in- 
debted to  you  for  a  special  brand  of  ice  ax,"  she  cried. 

"  Your  gratitude  now  is  as  nothing  to  the  ecstasy 

you  will  display  when  Karl  unpacks  his  load,"  he 

answered  lightly.     "  Now,  Miss  Wynton,  en  route! 

'You  know  the  path  to  the  glacier   already,  don't 

you?" 

151 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

"  I  have  been  to  its  foot  twice." 

"  Then  you  go  in  front.  There  is  no  room  to  walk 
two  abreast.  Before  we  tackle  the  ice  we  will  call 
a  halt  for  refreshments." 

From  that  point  till  the  glacier  was  reached  the 
climb  was  laboriously  simple.  There  was  no  diffi- 
culty and  not  the  slightest  risk,  even  for  a  child; 
but  the  heavy  gradient  and  the  rarefied  air  made  it 
almost  impossible  to  sustain  a  conversation  unless 
the  speakers  dawdled.  Helen  often  found  herself 
many  yards  in  advance  of  the  others.  She  simply 
could  not  help  breasting  the  steeper  portions  of  the 
track.  She  was  drawn  forward  by  an  intense  eager- 
ness to  begin  the  real  business  of  the  day.  Bower 
did  not  seek  to  restrain  her.  He  thought  her  high 
spirits  admirable,  and  his  gaze  dwelt  appreciatively 
on  her  graceful  poise  as  she  stopped  on  the  crest  of 
some  small  ravine  and  looked  back  at  the  plodders 
beneath.  Attractive  at  all  times,  she  was  bewitching 
that  morning  to  a  man  who  prided  himself  on  his 
athletic  tastes.  She  wore  a  white  knitted  jersey  and 
a  short  skirt,  a  costume  seemingly  devised  to  reveal 
the  lines  of  a  slender  waist  and  supple  limbs.  A 
white  Tarn  o'  Shanter  was  tied  firmly  over  her  glossy 
brown  hair  with  a  silk  motor  veil,  and  the  stout  boots 
which  she  had  surveyed  so  ruefully  when  Bower 
brought  them  to  her  on  the  previous  evening  after 
interviewing  the  village  shoemaker,  were  by  no  means 
so  cumbrous  in  use  as  her  unaccustomed  eyes  had 
deemed  them.  Even  the  phlegmatic  guide  was 

152 


SHADOWS 

stirred  to  gruff  appreciation  when  he  saw  her  vault 
on  to  a  large  flat  boulder  in  order  to  examine  an 
iron  cross  that  surmounted  it. 

"  Ach,  Gott!  "  he  grunted,  "  that  Englishwoman 
is  as  surefooted  as  a  chamois." 

But  Helen  had  found  a  name  and  a  date  on  a 
triangular  strip  of  metal  attached  to  the  cross. 
"Why  has  this  memorial  been  placed  here?"  she 
asked.  Bower  appealed  to  Barth;  but  he  shook  his 
head.  Karl  gave  details. 

"  A  man  fell  on  the  Cima  del  Largo.  They  car- 
ried him  here,  and  he  died  on  that  rock." 

"Poor  fellow!"  Some  of  the  joyous  light  left 
Helen's  face.  She  had  passed  the  cross  before,  and 
had  regarded  it  as  one  of  the  votive  offerings  so 
common  by  the  wayside  in  Catholic  countries,  know- 
ing that  in  this  part  of  Switzerland  the  Italian  ele- 
ment predominated  among  the  peasants. 

"  We  get  a  fine  view  of  the  Cima  del  Largo  from 
the  cabane,"  said  Bower  unconcernedly. 

Helen  picked  a  little  blue  flower  that  nestled  at 
the  base  of  the  rock.  She  pinned  it  to  her  jersey 
without  comment.  Sometimes  the  callousness  of  a 
man  was  helpful,  and  the  shadow  of  a  bygone 
tragedy  was  out  of  keeping  with  the  glow  of  this 
delightful  valley. 

The  curving  mass  of  the  glacier  was  now  clearly 
visible.  It  looked  like  some  marble  staircase  meant 
to  be  trodden  only  by  immortals.  Ever  broadening 
and  ascending  until  it  filled  the  whole  width  of  the 

153 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

rift  between  the  hills,  it  seemed  to  mount  upward 
to  infinity.  The  sidelong  rays  of  the  sun,  peeping 
over  the  shoulders  of  Forno  and  Roseg,  tinted  the 
great  ice  river  with  a  sapphire  blue,  while  its  higher 
reaches  glistened  as  though  studded  with  gigantic 
diamonds.  Near  at  hand,  where  the  Orlegna  rushed 
noisily  from  thraldom,  the  broken  surface  was  som- 
ber and  repellent.  In  color  a  dull  gray,  owing  to 
the  accumulation  of  winter  debris  and  summer  dust, 
it  had  the  aspect  of  decay  and  death;  it  was  jagged 
and  gaunt  and  haggard;  the  far  flung  piles  of  the 
white  moraine  imposed  a  stony  barrier  against  its 
farther  progress.  But  that  unpleasing  glimpse  of 
disruption  was  quickly  dispelled  by  the  magnificent 
volume  and  virgin  purity  of  the  glacier  as  a  whole. 
Helen  tried  to  imagine  herself  two  miles  distant,  a 
tiny  speck  on  the  great  floor  of  the  pass.  That  was 
the  only  way  to  grasp  its  stupendous  size,  though 
she  knew  that  it  mounted  through  five  miles  of  rock 
strewn  ravine  before  it  touched  the  precipitous  sad- 
dle along  which  runs  the  border  line  between.  Italy 
and  Switzerland. 

Karl's  sigh  of  relief  as  he  deposited  his  heavy 
load  on  a  tablelike  boulder  brought  Helen  back  from 
the  land  of  dreams.  To  this  sturdy  peasant  the 
wondrous  Forno  merely  represented  a  day's  hard 
work,  at  an  agreed  sum  of  ten  francs  for  carrying 
nearly  half  a  hundredweight,  and  a  liberal  pour- 
boire  if  the  voyageurs  were  satisfied. 

Sandwiches  and  a  glass  of  wine,  diluted  with  wa- 
154 


SHADOWS 

ter  brought  by  the  guide  from  a  neighboring  rill, — 
glacier  water  being  used  only  as  a  last  resource, — 
were  delectable  after  a  steady  two  hours'  walk.  The 
early  morning  meal  of  coffee  and  a  roll  had  lost 
some  of  its  flavor  when  consumed  apparently  in  the 
middle  of  the  night,  and  Helen  was  ready  now  for 
her  breakfast.  While  they  were  eating,  Bower  and 
Josef  Barth  cast  glances  at  some  wisps  of  cloud 
drifting  slowly  over  the  crests  of  the  southern  hills. 
Nothing  was  said.  The  guide  read  his  patron's 
wishes  correctly.  Unless  some  cause  far  more  im- 
perative than  a  slight  mist  intervened,  the  day's 
programme  must  not  be  abandoned.  So  there  was 
no  loitering.  The  sun  was  almost  in  the  valley,  and 
the  glacier  must  be  crossed  before  the  work  of  the 
night's  frost  was  undone. 

When  they  stepped  from  the  moraine  on  to  the 
ice  Barth  led,  Helen  followed,  Bower  came  next,  with 
Karl  in  the  rear. 

If  it  had  not  been  for  the  crisp  crunching  sound 
of  the.  hobnails  amid  the  loose  fragments  on  the  sur- 
face, and  the  ring  of  the  plckeVs  steel-shod  butt  on 
the  solid  mass  beneath,  Helen  might  have  fancied 
that  she  was  walking  up  an  easy  rock-covered  slope. 
Any  delusion  on  that  point,  however,  was  promptly 
dispelled  by  a  glimpse  of  a  narrow  crevasse  that  split 
the  foot  of  the  glacier  lengthwise. 

She  peered  into  its  sea-green  depths  awesomely. 
It  resembled  a  toothless  mouth  gaping  slowly  open, 
ready  enough  to  swallow  her,  but  too  inert  to  put 

155 


forth  the  necessary  effort.  And  the  thought  re- 
minded her  of  something.  She  halted  and  turned  to 
Bower. 

"  Ought  we  not  to  be  roped?  "  she  asked. 

He  laughed,  with  the  quiet  confidence  of  the  ex- 
pert mountaineer.  "Why?"  he  cried.  "The  way 
is  clear.  One  does  not  walk  into  a  crevasse  with 
one's  eyes  open." 

"  But  Stampa  told  me  that  I  should  refuse  to 
advance  a  yard  on  ice  or  difficult  rock  without  being 
roped." 

"  Stampa,  your  cab  driver?  " 

There  was  no  reason  that  she  could  fathom  why 
her  elderly  friend's  name  should  be  repeated  with 
such  scornful  emphasis. 

"  Ah,  yes.  He  is  that  because  he  is  lame,"  she 
protested.  "  But  he  was  one  of  the  most  famous 
guides  in  Zermatt  years  ago." 

She  swung  round  and  appealed  to  Barth,  who  was 
wondering  why  his  employers  were  stopping  before 
they  had  climbed  twenty  feet.  "  Are  you  from 
Zermatt  ?  "  she  demanded. 

"  No,  frdulein — from  Pontresina.  Zermatt  is  a 
long  way  from  here." 

"  But  you  know  some  of  the  Zermatt  men,  I  sup- 
pose? Have  you  ever  heard  of  Christian  Stampa?  " 

"  Most  certainly,  frdulein.  My  father  helped  him 
to  build  the  first  hut  on  the  Hornli  Ridge." 

"  Old  Stampa ! "  chimed  in  Karl  from  beneath. 
"  It  will  be  long  ere  he  is  forgotten.  I  was  one  of 

156 


SHADOWS 

four  who  carried  him  down  from  Corvatsch  to  Sils- 
Maria  the  day  after  he  fell.  He  was  making  the 
descent  by  night, — a  mad  thing  to  do, — and  there 
was  murder  in  his  heart,  they  said.  But  I  never 
believed  it.  We  shared  a  bottle  of  Monte  Pulciano 
only  yesterday,  just  for  the  sake  of  old  times,  and 
he  was  as  merry  as  Hans  von  Rippach  himself." 

Bower  was  stooping,  so  Helen  could  not  see  his 
face.  He  seemed  to  be  fumbling  with  a  boot  lace. 

"  You  hear,  Mr.  Bower  ?  "  she  cried.  "  I  am  quot- 
ing no  mean  authority." 

He  did  not  answer.  He  had  untied  the  lace  and 
was  readjusting  it.  The  girl  realized  that  to  a  man 
of  his  portly  build  his  present  attitude  was  not  con- 
ducive to  speech.  It  had  an  additional  effect  which 
did  not  suggest  itself  to  her.  The  effort  thus  de- 
manded from  heart  and  lungs  might  bring  back  the 
blood  to  a  face  blanched  by  a  deadly  fear. 

Karl  was  stocked  with  reminiscences  of  Stampa. 
"  I  remember  the  time  when  people  said  Christian 
was  the  best  man  in  the  Bernina,"  he  said.  "  He 
would  never  go  back  to  the  Valais  after  his  daughter 
died.  It  was  a  strange  thing  that  he  should  come  to 
grief  on  a  cowherd's  track  like  that  over  Corvatsch. 
But  Etta's  affair " 

"  ScJvweige!  "  snarled  Bower,  straightening  him- 
self suddenly.  His  dark  eyes  shot  such  a  gleam  of 
lambent  fury  at  the  porter  that  the  man's  jaw  fell. 
The  words  were  frozen  on  his  lips.  He  could  not 
have  been  stricken  dumb  more  effectually  had  he 

157 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

come  face  to  face  with  one  of  the  horrific  sprites 
described  in  the  folklore  of  the  hills. 

Helen  was  surprised.  What  had  poor  Karl  done 
that  he  should  be  bidden  so  fiercely  to  hold  his 
tongue?  Then  she  thought  that  Bower  must  have 
recalled  Stampa's  history,  and  feared  that  perhaps 
the  outspoken  peasant  might  enter  into  a  piquant 
account  of  some  village  scandal.  A  chambermaid 
in  the  hotel,  questioned  about  Stampa,  had  told  her 
that  the  daughter  he  loved  so  greatly  had  committed 
suicide.  Really,  she  ought  to  be  grateful  to  her 
companion  for  saving  her  from  a  passing  embarrass- 
ment. But  she  had  the  tact  not  to  drop  the  sub- 
ject too  quickly. 

"  If  Barth  and  you  agree  that  roping  is  unneces- 
sary, of  course  I  haven't  a  word  to  say  in  the  mat- 
ter," she  volunteered.  "  It  was  rather  absurd  of  me 
to  mention  it  in  the  first  instance." 

"  No,  you  were  right.  I  have  never  seen  Stampa ; 
but  his  name  is  familiar.  It  occurs  in  most  Alpine 
records.  Barth,  fix  the  rope  before  we  go  farther. 
The  frdulein  wishes  it." 

The  rush  of  color  induced  by  physical  effort — 
effort  of  a  tensity  that  Helen  was  wholly  unaware 
of — was  ebbing  now  before  a  numbing  terror  that 
had  come  to  stay.  His  face  was  drawn  and  livid. 
His  voice  had  the  metallic  ring  in  it  that  the  girl 
had  detected  once  already  that  day.  Again  she  ex- 
perienced a  sense  of  bewilderment  that  he  should 
regard  a  trivial  thing  so  seriously.  She  was  not  a 

158 


SHADOWS 

child.  The  world  of  to-day  pulsated  with  far  too 
many  stories  of  tragic  passion  that  she  should  be 
shielded  so  determinedly  from  any  hint  of  an  episode 
that  doubtless  wrung  the  heart's  core  of  this  quiet 
valley  one  day  in  August  sixteen  years  ago.  In  some 
slight  degree  Bower's  paroxysm  of  anger  was  a  re- 
flection on  her  own  good  taste,  for  she  had  unwit- 
tingly given  rise  to  it. 

Nevertheless,  she  felt  indebted  to  him.  To  ex- 
tricate both  Bower  and  herself  from  an  awkward 
situation  she  took  a  keen  interest  in  Earth's  method 
of  adjusting  the  rope.  The  man  did  not  show  any 
amazement  at  Bower's  order.  He  was  there  to  earn 
his  fee.  Had  these  mad  English  t  told  him  to  cut 
steps  up  the  gentle  slope  in  front  he  would  have 
obeyed  without  protest,  though  it  was  more  than 
strange  that  this  much  traveled  voyageur  should 
adopt  such  a  needless  precaution. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  under  Earth's  guidance,  a 
blind  cripple  could  have  surmounted  the  first  kilo- 
meter of  the  Forno  glacier.  The  track  lay  close  to 
the  left  bank  of  the  moraine.  It  curved  slightly  to 
the  right  and  soon  the  exquisite  panorama  of  Monte 
Roseg,  the  Cima  di  Rosso,  Monte  Sissone,  Piz  Tor- 
rone,  and  the  Castello  group  opened  up  before  the 
climbers.  Helen  was  enchanted.  Twice  she  half 
turned  to  address  some  question  to  Bower ;  but  on 
each  occasion  she  happened  to  catch  him  in  the  act 
of  swallowing  some  brandy  from  a  flask.  Governed 
by  an  unaccountable  timidity,  she  pretended  not  to 

159 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

notice  his  actions,  and  diverted  her  words  to  Barth, 
who  told  her  the  names  of  the  peaks  and  pointed  to 
the  junctions  of  minor  ice  fields  with  the  main  artery 
of  the  Forno. 

Bower  did  not  utter  a  syllable  until  they  struck 
out  toward  the  center  of  the  glacier.  A  crevasse 
some  ten  feet  in  width  and  seemingly  hundreds 
of  feet  deep,  barred  the  way;  but  a  bridge  of 
ice,  covered  with  snow,  offered  safe  transit.  The 
snow  carpet  showed  that  a  number  of  climbers  had 
passed  quite  recently  in  both  directions.  Even 
Helen,  somewhat  awed  by  the  dimensions  of  the  rift, 
understood  that  the  existence  of  this  natural  arch 
was  as  well  recognized  by  Alpinists  as  Waterloo 
Bridge  is  known  to  dwellers  on  the  south  side  of  the 
Thames. 

"  Now,  Miss  Wynton,  you  should  experience  your 
first  real  thrill,"  said  Bower.  "  This  bridge  forms 
here  every  year  at  this  season,  and  an  army  might 
cross  in  safety.  It  is  the  genuine  article,  the  first 
and  strongest  of  a  series.  Yet  here  you  cross  the 
Rubicon.  A  mixture  of  metaphors  is  allowable  in 
high  altitudes,  you  know." 

Helen,  almost  startled  at  first  by  the  unaffected 
naturalness  of  his  words,  was  unfeignedly  relieved 
at  finding  him  restored  to  the  normal.  Usually  his 
supply  of  light-hearted  badinage  was  unceasing.  He 
knew  exactly  when  and  how  to  season  it  with  more 
serious  statements.  It  is  this  rare  quality  that  makes 
tolerable  a  long  day's  solitude  a  deux. 

160 


She  flourished  her  ice  axe  bravely. 


Page  163 


SHADOWS 

"  I  am  not  Caesar's  wife,"  she  replied ;  "  but  for 
the  credit  of  womankind  in  general  I  shall  act  as 
though  I  was  above  suspicion — of  nervousness." 

She  did  not  look  round.  Barth  was  moving 
quickly,  and  she  had  no  desire  to  burden  him  with 
a  drag  on  the  rope.  When  she  was  in  the  center 
of  the  narrow  causeway,  a  snow  cornice  in  the  lip 
of  the  crevasse  detached  itself  under  the  growing 
heat  of  the  sun  and  shivered  down  into  the  green 
darkness.  The  incident  brought  her  heart  into  her 
mouth.  It  served  as  a  reminder  that  this  solid  ice 
river  was  really  in  a  state  of  constant  change  and 
movement. 

Bower  laughed,  with  all  his  customary  gayety  of 
manner.  "  That  came  at  a  dramatic  moment,"  he 
said.  "  Too  bad  it  could  not  let  you  pass  without 
giving  you  a  quake ! " 

"  I  am  not  a  bit  afraid." 

"  Ah,  but  I  can  read  your  thoughts.  There  is 
a  bond  of  sympathy  between  us." 

"  Hemp  is  a  non-conductor." 

"  You  are  willfully  misunderstanding  me,"  he  re- 
torted. 

"  No.  I  honestly  believed  you  felt  the  rope  quiver 
a  little." 

"  Alas !  it  is  the  atmosphere.  My  compliments 
fall  on  idle  ears." 

Barth  interrupted  this  play  of  harmless  chaff  bj 
jerking  some  remark  over  his  shoulder.  "  Looks 
like  a  guxe"  he  said  gruffly. 

161 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

"  Nonsense !  "  said  Bower, — "  a  bank  of  mist. 
The  sun  will  soon  melt  it." 

"  It's  a  guxe,  right  enough,"  chimed  in  Karl,  who 
had  recovered  his  power  of  speech.  "  That  is  why 
the  boy  was  blowing  his  horn — to  show  he  was  bring- 
ing the  cattle  home." 

"  Well,  then,  push  on.  The  sooner  we  are  in  the 
hut  the  better." 

"  Please,  what  is  a  guxe?  "  asked  Helen,  when  the 
men  had  nothing  more  to  say. 

"  A  word  I  would  have  wished  to  add  later  to 
your  Alpine  phrase  book.  It  means  a  storm,  a 
blizzard." 

"  Should  we  not  return  at  once  in  that  event  ?  " 

"What?  Who  said  just  now  she  was  not 
afraid?" 

"  But  a  storm  in  such  a  place !  " 

"  These  fellows  smell  a  tourmente  in  every  little 
cloud  from  the  southwest.  We  may  have  some  wind 
and  a  light  snowfall,  and  that  will  be  an  experience 
for  you.  Surely  you  can  trust  me  not  to  run  any 
real  risk?  " 

"  Oh,  yes.  I  do,  indeed.  But  I  have  read  of  people 
being  caught  in  these  storms  and  suffering  terribly." 

"  Not  on  the  Forno,  I  assure  you.  I  don't  wish  to 
minimize  the  perils  of  your  first  ascent;  but  it  is 
only  fair  to  say  that  this  is  an  exhibition  glacier. 
If  it  was  nearer  town  you  would  find  an  orchestra  in 
each  amphitheater  up  there,  with  sideshows  in  every 
couloir.  Jesting  apart,  you  are  absolutely  safe  with 

162 


SHADOWS 

Barth  and  me,  not  to  mention  the  irrepressible  gen- 
tleman who  carries  our  provisions." 

Helen  was  fully  alive  to  the  fact  that  a  woman 
who  joins  a  mountaineering  party  should  not  impose 
her  personal  doubts  on  men  who  are  willing  to  go 
on.  She  flourished  her  ice  ax  bravely,  and  cried, 
"  Excelsior ! " 

In  the  next  instant  she  regretted  her  choice  of 
expression.  The  moral  of  Longfellow's  poem  might 
be  admirable,  but  the  fate  of  its  hero  was  unpleas- 
antly topical.  Again  Bower  laughed. 

"  Ah !  "  he  said.  "  Will  you  deny  now  that  I  am 
a  first  rate  receiver  of  wireless  messages?  " 

She  had  no  breath  left  for  a  quip.  Barth  was 
hurrying,  and  the  thin  air  was  beginning  to  have 
its  effect.  When  an  unusually  smooth  stretch  of 
ice  permitted  her  to  take  her  eyes  from  the  track  for 
a  moment  she  looked  back  to  learn  the  cause  of  such 
haste.  To  her  complete  astonishment,  the  Maloja 
Pass  and  the  hills  beyond  it  were  dissolved  in  a  thick 
mist.  A  monstrous  cloud  was  sweeping  up  the 
Orlegna  Valley.  As  yet,  it  was  making  for  the 
Muretto  Pass  rather  than  the  actual  ravine  of  the 
Forno ;  but  a  few  wraiths  of  vapor  were  sailing  high 
overhead,  and  it  needed  no  weatherwise  native  to  pre- 
dict that  ere  long  the  glacier  itself  would  be  covered 
by  that  white  pall.  She  glanced  at  Bower. 

He  smiled  cheerfully.  "  It  is  nothing,"  he  mur- 
mured. 

"  I  really  don't  care,"  she  said.  "  One  does 
163 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

not  shirk  an  adventure  merely  because  it  is  disa- 
greeable. The  pity  is  that  all  this  lovely  sunshine 
must  vanish." 

"  It  will  reappear.  You  will  be  charmed  with  the 
novelty  in  an  hour  or  less." 

"Is  it  far  to  the  hut?" 

"  Hardly  twenty  minutes  at  our  present  pace." 

A  growl  from  Barth  stopped  their  brief  talk.  An- 
other huge  crevasse  yawned  in  front.  There  was  an 
ice  bridge,  with  snow,  like  others  they  had  crossed; 
but  this  was  a  slender  structure,  and  the  leader 
stabbed  it  viciously  with  the  butt  of  his  ax  before  he 
ventured  on  it.  The  others  kept  the  rope  taut,  and 
he  crossed  safely.  They  followed.  As  Helen  gained 
the  further  side  she  heard  Bower's  chuckle: 

"Another  thrill!" 

"  I  am  growing  quite  used  to  them,"  she  said. 

"  Well,  it  may  help  somewhat  if  I  tell  you  that 
the  temporary  departure  of  the  sun  will  cause  this 
particular  bridge  to  be  ten  times  as  strong  when  we 
return." 

"  Attention ! "  cried  Barth,  taking  a  sharp  turn 
to  the  left.  The  meaning  of  his  warning  was  soon 
apparent.  They  had  to  descend  a  few  feet  of  rough 
ice,  and  Helen  found,  to. her  great  relief  it  must  be 
confessed,  that  they  were  approaching  the  lateral 
moraine.  Already  the  sky  was  overcast.  The 
glacier  had  taken  to  itself  a  cold  grayness  that  was 
disconcerting.  The  heavy  mist  fell  on  them  with  in- 
conceivable rapidity.  Shining  peaks  and  towering 

164. 


SHADOWS 

precipices  of  naked  rock  were  swept  out  of  sight 
each  instant.  The  weather  had  changed  with  a 
magical  speed.  The  mist  advanced  with  the  rush 
of  an  express  train,  and  a  strong  wind  sprang  up 
as  though  it  had  burst  through  a  restraining  wall 
and  was  bent  on  overwhelming  the  daring  mortals 
who  were  penetrating  its  chosen  territory. 

Somehow — anyhow — Helen  scrambled  on.  She 
was  obliged  to  keep  eyes  and  mind  intent  on  each 
step.  Her  chief  object  was  to  imitate  Barth,  to 
poise,  and  jump,  and  clamber  with  feet  and  hands 
exactly  as  he  did.  At  this  stage  the  rope  was  ob- 
viously a  hindrance;  but  none  of  the  men  suggested 
its  removal,  and  Helen  had  enough  to  occupy  her 
wits  without  troubling  them  by  a  question.  Even 
in  the  stress  of  her  own  breathless  exertions  she  had 
room  in  her  mind  for  a  wondering  pity  for  the  heav- 
ily laden  Karl.  She  marveled  that  anyone,  be  he 
strong  as  Samson,  could  carry  such  a  load  and  not 
fall  under  it.  Yet  he  was  lumbering  along  behind 
Bower  with  a  clumsy  agility  that  was  almost  super- 
natural to  her  thinking.  She  was  still  unconscious 
of  the  fact  that  most  of  her  own  struggles  were  due 
more  to  the  rarefied  air  than  to  the  real  difficulties 
of  the  route. 

At  last,  when  she  really  thought  she  must  cry  out 
for  a  rest,  when  a  steeper  climb  than  any  hitherto 
encountered  had  bereft  her  almost  of  the  power  to 
take  another  upward  spring  to  the  ledge  of  some 
enormous  boulder,  when  her  knees  and  ankles  were 

165 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

sore  and  bruised,  and  the  skin  of  her  fingers  was 
beginning  to  fray  under  her  stout  gloves,  she  found 
herself  standing  on  a  comparatively  level  space 
formed  of  broken  stones.  A  rough  wall,  surmounted 
by  a  flat  pitched  roof,  stared  at  her  out  of  the  mist. 
In  the  center  of  the  wall  a  small,  square,  shuttered 
window  suggested  a  habitation.  Her  head  swam, 
and  her  eyes  ached  dreadfully ;  but  she  knew  that 
this  was  the  hut,  and  strove  desperately  to  appear 
self  possessed. 

"  Accept  my  congratulations,  Miss  Wynton,"  said 
a  low  voice  at  her  ear.  "  Not  one  woman  in  a  thou- 
sand would  have  gone  through  that  last  half-hour 
without  a  murmur.  You  are  no  longer  a  novice. 
Allow  me  to  present  you  with  the  freedom  of  the 
Alps.  This  is  one  of  the  many  chateaux  at  your 
disposal." 

A  wild  swirl  of  sleet  lashed  them  venomously. 
This  first  whip  of  the  gale  seemed  to  have  the  spite- 
fulness  of  disappointed  rage. 

Helen  felt  her  arm  grasped.  Bower  led  her  to  a 
doorway  cunningly  disposed  out  of  the  path  of  the 
dreaded  southwest  wind.  At  that  instant  all  the 
woman  in  her  recognized  that  the  man  was  big, 
and  strong,  and  self  reliant,  and  that  it  was  good 
to  have  him  near,  shouting  reassuring  words  that 
were  whirled  across  the  rock-crowned  glacier  by  the 
violence  of  the  tempest. 


166 


CHAPTER  IX 

"  ETTA'S  FATHER  " 

THOUGH  the  hut  was  a  crude  thing,  a  triumph  of 
essentials  over  luxuries,  Helen  had  never  before 
hailed  four  walls  and  a  roof  with  such  heartfelt,  if 
silent,  thanksgiving.  She  sank  exhausted  on  a  rough 
bench,  and  watched  the  matter-of-fact  Engadiners 
unpacking  the  stores  and  firewood  carried  in  their 
rucksacks.  Their  businesslike  air  supplied  the  tonic 
she  needed.  Though  the  howling  storm  seemed  to 
threaten  the  tiny  refuge  with  destruction,  these  two 
men  set  to  work,  coolly  and  methodically,  to  prepare 
a  meal.  Barth  arranged  the  contents  of  Karl's 
bulky  package  on  a  small  table,  and  the  porter 
busied  himself  with  lighting  a  fire  in  a  Swiss  stove 
that  stood  in  the  center  of  the  outer  room.  An 
inner  apartment  loomed  black  and  uninviting  through 
an  open  doorway.  Helen  discovered  later  that  some 
scanty  accommodation  was  provided  there  for  those 

167 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

who  meant  to  sleep  in  the  hut  in  readiness  for  am 
early  ascent,  while  it  supplied  a  separate  room  in 
the  event  of  women  taking  part  in  an  expedition. 

Bower  offered  her  a  quantity  of  brandy  and  wa- 
ter. She  declined  it,  declaring  that  she  needed  only 
time  to  regain  her  breath.  He  was  a  man  who  might 
be  trusted  not  to  pester  anyone  with  well  meant  but 
useless  attentions.  He  went  to  the  door,  lit  a 
cigarette,  and  seemed  to  be  keenly  interested  in  the 
sleet  as  it  pelted  the  moraine  or  gathered  in  drifts  in 
the  minor  fissures  of  the  glacier. 

Within  a  remarkably  short  space  of  time,  Karl 
had  concocted  two  cups  of  steaming  coffee.  Helen 
was  then  all  aglow.  Her  strength  was  restored. 
The  boisterous  wind  had  crimsoned  her  cheeks  be- 
neath the  tan.  She  had  never  looked  such  a  picture 
of  radiant  womanhood  as  after  this  tussle  with  the 
storm.  Luckily  her  clothing  was  not  wet,  since  the 
travelers  reached  the  cabane  at  the  very  instant  the 
elements  became  really  aggressive.  It  was  a  quite 
composed  and  reinvigorated  Helen  who  summoned 
Bower  from  his  contemplation  of  the  weather 
portents. 

"  We  may  be  besieged,"  she  cried ;  "  but  at  any 
rate  we  are  not  on  famine  rations.  What  a  spread ! 
You  could  hardly  have  brought  more  food  if  you 
fancied  we  might  be  kept  here  a  week." 

The  sustained  physical  effort  called  for  during 
the  last  part  of  the  climb  seemed  to  have  dispelled  his 
fit  of  abstraction.  Being  an  eminently  adaptable 

168 


"ETTA'S  FATHER" 

man,  he  responded  to  her  mood.  "  Ah,  that  sounds 
more  like  the  enthusiast  who  set  forth  so  gayly  from 
the  Kursaal  this  morning,"  he  answered,  pulling  the 
door  ajar  before  he  took  a  seat  by  her  side  on  the 
bench.  "  A  few  minutes  ago  you  were  ready  to  con- 
demn me  as  several  kinds  of  idiot  for  going  on  ia 
the  teeth  of  our  Switzers'  warnings.  Now,  con- 
fess!" 

"  I  don't  think  I  could  have  climbed  another  ten 
yards,"  she  admitted. 

"  Our  haste  was  due  to  Earth's  anxiety.  He 
wanted  to  save  you  from  a  drenching.  It  was  a 
near  thing,  and  with  the  thermometer  falling  a  de- 
gree a  minute  soaked  garments  might  have  brought 
very  unpleasant  consequences.  But  that  was  our 
only  risk.  Old  mountaineer  as  I  am,  I  hardly  ex- 
pected such  a  blizzard  in  August,  after  such  short 
notice  too.  Otherwise,  now  that  we  are  safely 
housed,  you  are  fortunate  in  securing  a  memorable 
experience.  The  storm  will  soon  blow  over;  but 
it  promises  to  be  lively  while  it  lasts." 

Helen  was  sipping  her  coffee.  Perhaps  her  eyes 
conveyed  the  question  her  tongue  hesitated  to  utter. 
Bower  smiled  pleasantly,  and  gesticulated  with  hands 
and  shoulders  in  a  way  that  was  foreign  to  his 
studiously  cultivated  English  habit  of  repose.  In- 
deed, with  his  climber's  garb  he  seemed  to  have  ac- 
quired a  new  manner.  There  was  a  perplexing 
change  in  him  since  the  morning. 

"  Yes,"  he  said.  "  I  understand  perfectly.  You 
169 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

and  I  might  sing  lieder  ohne  ivorte,  Miss  Wyntom. 
I  have  known  these  summer  gales  to  last  four  days; 
but  pray  do  not  be  alarmed,"  for  Helen  nearly 
dropped  her  cup  in  quick  dismay ;  "  my  own  opinioa 
is  that  we  shall  have  a  delightful  afternoon.  Of 
course,  I  am  a  discredited  prophet.  Ask  Barth." 

The  guide,  hearing  his  name  mentioned,  glanced 
at  them,  though  he  was  engaged  at  the  moment  in 
taking  the  wrappings  off  a  quantity  of  bread,  cold 
chicken,  and  slices  of  ham  and  beef.  He  agreed 
with  Bower.  The  barometer  stood  high  when  they 
left  the  hotel.  He  thought,  as  all  men  think  who 
live  in  the  open,  that  "  the  sharper  the  blast  the 
sooner  it's  past." 

*'  Moreover,"  broke  in  Karl,  who  refused  to  be  left 
out  of  the  conversation,  "  Johann  Klucker's  cat  was 
sitting  with  its  back  to  the  stove  last  evening." 

This  bit  of  homely  philosophy  brought  a  ripple 
of  laughter  from  Helen,  whereupon  Karl  explained. 

"  Cats  are  very  wise,  frdulein.  Johann  Klucker's 
cat  is  old.  Therefore  she  is  skilled  in  reading  the 
tokens  of  the  weather.  A  cat  hates  wind  and  rain, 
and  makes  her  arrangements  accordingly.  If  she 
washes  herself  smoothly,  the  next  twelve  hours  will 
be  fine.  If  she  licks  against  the  grain,  it  will  be 
wet.  When  she  lies  with  her  back  to  the  fire,  there 
will  surely  be  a  squall.  When  her  tail  is  up  and  her 
coat  rises,  look  out  for  wind." 

"  Johann  Klucker's  cat  has  settled  the  dispute," 
said  Bower  gravely  in  English.  "  A  squall  it  is, — 

170 


"  ETTA'S  FATHER  " 

a  most  suitable  prediction  for  a  cat, — and  I  am  once 
more  rehabilitated  in  your  esteem,  I  hope?  " 

A  cold  iridescence  suddenly  illumined  the  gloomy 
interior  of  the  hut.  It  gave  individuality  to  each 
particle  of  sleet  whirling  past  the  door.  Helen 
thought  that  the  sun  had  broken  through  the  storm 
clouds  for  an  instant;  but  Bower  said  quietly: 

"Are  you  afraid  of  lightning?" 

"  Not  very.     I  don't  like  it." 

"  Some  people  collapse  altogether  when  they  see 
it.  Perhaps  when  forewarned  you  are  forearmed." 

A  low  rumble  boomed  up  the  valley,  and  the  moun- 
tain echoes  muttered  in  solemn  chorus. 

"  We  are  to  be  spared  none  of  the  scenic  accesso- 
ries, then?  "  said  Helen. 

"  None.  In  fact,  you  will  soon  see  and  hear  a 
thunder  storm  that  would  have  delighted  Gustave 
Dore.  Please  remember  that  it  cannot  last  long, 
and  that  this  hut  has  been  built  twenty  years  to  my 
knowledge." 

Helen  sipped  her  coffee,  but  pushed  away  a  plate 
set  before  her  by  Barth.  "  If  you  don't  mind,  I 
should  like  the  door  wide  open,"  she  said. 

"  You  prefer  to  lunch  later  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"'  And  you  wish  to  face  the  music — is  that  it  ?  " 

"  I  think  so." 

"  Let  me  remind  you  that  Jove's  thunderbolts  are 
really  forged  on  the  hilltops." 

"  I  am  here ;  so  I  must  make  the  best  of  it.  I 
171 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

shall   not    scream,   or   faint,   if   that   is   what   you 
dread." 

"  I  dread  nothing  but  your  anger  for  not  having 
turned  back  when  a  retreat  was  possible.  I  hate 
turning  back,  Miss  Wynton.  I  have  never  yet 
withdrawn  from  any  enterprise  seriously  undertaken, 
and  I  was  determined  to  share  your  first  ramble 
among  my  beloved  hills." 

Another  gleam  of  light,  bluer  and  more  pene- 
trating than  its  forerunner,  lit  the  brown  rafters 
of  the  cabane.  It  was  succeeded  by  a  crash  like  the 
roar  of  massed  artillery.  The  walls  trembled.  Some 
particles  of  mortar  rattled  noisily  to  the  floor.  A 
strange  sound  of  rending,  followed  by  a  heavy  thud, 
suggested  something  more  tangible  than  thunder- 
bolts. Bower  kicked  the  door  and  it  swung  inward. 

"  An  avalanche,"  he  said.  "  Probably  a  rockfall 
too.  Of  course,  the  hut  stands  clear  of  the  track 
of  unpleasant  visitors  of  that  description." 

Helen  had  not  expected  this  courageous  bearing 
in  a  man  of  Bower's  physical  characteristics.  Hith- 
erto she  had  regarded  him  as  somewhat  self  indul- 
gent, a  Sybarite,  the  product  of  modernity  in  its 
London  aspects.  His  demeanor  in  the  train,  in  the 
hotel,  bespoke  one  accustomed  to  gratify  the  flesh, 
who  found  all  the  world  ready  to  pander  to  his  de- 
sires. Again  she  was  conscious  of  that  instinctive 
trustfulness  a  woman  freely  reposes  in  a  dominant 
man.  Oddly  enough,  she  thought  of  Spencer  in  the 
same  breath.  An  hour  earlier,  had  she  been  asked 

172 


"  ETTA»S  FATHER  " 

which  of  these  two  would  command  her  confidence 
during  a  storm,  her  unhesitating  choice  would  have 
favored  the  American.  Now,  she  was  at  least  sure 
that  Bower's  coolness  was  not  assumed.  His  atti- 
tude inspired  emulation.  She  rose  and  went  to  the 
door. 

"  I  want  to  see  an  avalanche,"  she  cried.  "  Where 
did  that  one  fall?  " 

Bower  followed  her.  He  spoke  over  her  shoulder. 
"  On  Monte  Roseg,  I  expect.  The  weather  seem* 
to  be  clearing  slightly.  This  tearing  wind  will  soo» 
roll  up  the  mist,  and  the  thunder  will  certainly  start 
another  big  rock  or  a  snowslide.  If  you  are  lucky, 
you  may  witness  something  really  fine." 

A  dazzling  flash  leaped  over  the  glacier.  Al- 
though the  surrounding  peaks  were  as  yet  invisible 
through  the  haze  of  sleet  and  vapor,  objects  near 
at  hand  were  revealed  with  uncanny  distinctness. 
Each  frozen  wave  on  the  surface  of  the  ice  was 
etched  in  sharp  lines.  A  cluster  of  seracs  on  a 
neighboring  icefall  showed  all  their  mad  chaos.  The 
blue  green  chasm  of  a  huge  crevasse  was  illumined 
to  a  depth  far  below  any  point  to  which  the  rays 
of  the  sun  penetrated.  On  the  neighboring  slope 
of  Monte  Roseg  the  crimson  and  green  and  yellow 
mosses  were  given  sudden  life  against  the  black  back- 
ground of  rock.  Every  boulder  here  wore  a  somber 
robe.  They  were  stark  and  grim.  The  eye  instantly 
caught  the  contrast  to  their  gray-white  fellows  piled 
•  on  the  lower  moraine  or  in  the  bed  of  the  Orlegna. 

173 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

Helen  was  quick  to  note  the  new  tone  of  black 
amid  the  vividly  white  patches  of  snow.  She  waited 
until  the  deafening  thunder  peal  was  dying  away  in 
eerie  cadences.  "  Why  are  the  rocks  black  here 
and  almost  white  in  the  valley?  "  she  asked. 

"  Because  they  are  young,  as  rocks  go,"  was  the 
smiling  answer.  "  They  have  yet  to  pass  through 
the  mill.  They  will  be  battered  and  bruised  and  pol- 
ished before  they  emerge  from  the  glacier  several 
years  hence  and  a  few  miles  nearer  peace.  In  that 
they  resemble  men.  'Pon  my  word,  Miss  Wynton, 
you  have  caused  me  to  evolve  a  rather  poetic  ex- 
planation of  certain  gray  hairs  I  have  noticed  of  late 
among  my  own  raven  locks." 

"  You  appear  to  know  and  love  these  hills  so  well 
that  I  wonder — if  you  will  excuse  a  personal  re- 
mark— I  wonder  you  ever  were  able  to  tear  yourself 
away  from  them." 

"  I  have  missed  too  much  of  real  en j  oyment  in 
the  effort  to  amass  riches,"  he  said  slowly.  "  Be- 
lieve me,  that  thought  has  held  me  since — since  you 
and  I  set  foot  on  the  Forno  together." 

"  But  you  knew  ?  You  were  no  stranger  to  the 
Alps?  I  am  beginning  to  understand  that  one  can- 
not claim  kinship  with  the  high  places  until  they 
stir  the  heart  more  in  storm  than  in  sunshine.  When 
I  saw  all  these  giants  glittering  in  the  sun  like 
knights  in  silver  armor,  I  described  them  to  myself 
as  gloriously  beautiful.  Now  I  feel  that  they  are 
more  than  that, — they  are  awful,  pitiless  in  their 

174 


"  ETTA'S  FATHER  " 

indifference  to  frail  mortals ;  they  carry  me  into  a 
dim  region  where  life  and  death  are  terms  without 
meaning." 

"  Yes,  that  is  the  true  spirit  of  the  mountains. 
I  too  used  to  look  on  them  with  affectionate  rever- 
ence, and  you  recall  the  old  days.  Perhaps,  if  I  ana 
deemed  worthy,  you  will  teach  me  the  cult  once 
more." 

He  bent  closer.  Helen  became  conscious  that  in 
her  enthusiasm  she  had  spoken  unguardedly.  She 
moved  away,  slightly  but  unmistakably,  a  step  or 
two  out  into  the  open,  for  the  hut  on  that  side  was 
not  exposed  to  the  bitter  violence  of  the  wind. 

"  It  is  absurd  to  imagine  us  in  a  change  of  role," 
she  cried.  "  I  should  play  the  poorest  travesty  of 
Mentor  to  your  Telemachus.  Oh !  What  is  that  ?  " 

While  she  was  speaking,  another  blinding  flare 
of  lightning  flooded  moraine  and  glacier  and  pierced 
the  veil  of  sleet.  Her  voice  rose  almost  to  a  shriek. 
Bower  sprang  forward.  His  left  hand  rested  reas- 
suringly across  her  shoulders. 

"  Better  come  inside  the  hut,"  he  began. 

"  But  I  saw  someone — a  white  face — staring  at 
me  down  there !  " 

"  It  is  possible.  There  is  no  cause  for  fear.  A 
party  may  have  crossed  from  Italy.  There  would 
be  none  from  the  Maloja  at  this  hour." 

Helen  was  actually  trembling.  Bower  drew  her 
a  little  nearer.  He  himself  was  unnerved,  a  prey 
to  wilder  emotions  than  she  could  guess  till  later 

175 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

days  brought  a  fuller  understanding.  It  was  a  mad 
trick  of  fate  that  threw  the  girl  into  his  embrace 
just  then,  for  another  far-flung  sheet  of  fire  re- 
vealed to  her  terrified  vision  the  figures  of  Spencer 
and  Stampa  on  the  rocks  beneath.  With  brutal  can- 
dor, the  same  flash  showed  her  nestling  close  to 
Bower.  For  some  reason,  she  shuddered.  Though 
the  merciful  gloom  of  the  next  few  seconds  restored 
her  faculties,  her  face  and  neck  were  aflame.  She 
almost  felt  that  she  had  been  detected  in  some  fault. 
Her  confusion  was  not  lessened  by  hearing  a  mut- 
tered curse  from  her  companion.  Careless  of  the 
stinging  sleet,  she  leaped  down  to  a  broad  tier  of 
jock  below  the  plateau  of  the  hut  and  cried  shrilly : 

"Is  that  really  you,  Mr.  Spencer?" 

A  more  tremendous  burst  of  thunder  than  anj 
jet  experienced  dwarfed  all  other  sounds  for  an 
appreciable  time.  The  American  scrambled  up,  al- 
most at  her  feet,  and  stood  beside  her.  Stampa  came 
quick  on  his  heels,  moving  with  a  lightness  and  ac- 
•uracy  of  foothold  amazing  in  one  so  lame. 

"  Just  me,  Miss  Wynton.  Sorry  if  I  have  fright- 
ened you,  but  our  old  friend  here  was  insistent  that 
we  should  hurry.  I  have  been  tracking  you  since 
nine  o'clock." 

Spencer's  words  were  nonchalantly  polite.  He 
even  raised  his  cap,  though  the  fury  of  the  ice  laden 
blast  might  well  have  excused  this  formal  act  of 
courtesy.  Helen  was  still  blushing  so  painfully  that 
she  became  angry  with  herself,  and  her  voice  was 

176 


"  ETTA'S  FATHER  " 

hardly  under  control.  Nevertheless,  she  managed  to 
say: 

"  How  kind  and  thoughtful  of  you !  I  am  all 
right,  as  you  see.  Mr.  Bower  and  the  guide  were 
able  to  bring  me  here  before  the  storm  broke.  We 
happened  to  be  standing  near  the  door,  watching  the 
lightning.  When  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  you  I  was 
so  stupidly  startled  that  I  screamed  and  almost  fell 
into  Mr.  Bower's  arms." 

Put  in  that  way,  it  did  not  sound  so  distressing. 
And  Spencer  had  no  desire  to  add  further  difficul- 
ties to  a  situation  already  awkward. 

"  Guess  you  scared  me  too,"  he  said.  "  I  sup- 
pose, now  we  are  at  the  hut,  Stampa  will  not  object 
to  my  waiting  five  minutes  or  so  before  we  start 
for  home." 

"  Surely  you  will  lunch  with  us.  Everything  i* 
set  out  on  the  table,  and  we  have  food  enough  for 
a  regiment." 

"  You  would  need  it  if  you  remained  here  another 
couple  of  hours,  Miss  Wynton.  Stampa  tells  me  that 
a  first  rate  guxe,  which  is  Swiss  for  a  blizzard,  I 
believe,  is  blowing  up.  This  thunder  storm  is  the 
preliminary  to  a  heavy  downfall  of  snow.  That 
is  why  I  came.  If  we  are  not  off  the  glacier  before 
two  o'clock,  it  will  become  impassable  till  a  lot  of 
the  snow  melts." 

"What  is  that  you  are  saying?"  demanded 
Bower  bruskly.  Helen  and  the  two  men  had  reached 
the  level  of  the  cdbane;  but  Stampa,  thinking  they 

177 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

would  all  enter,  kept  in  the  rear,  "  If  that  fairy 
tale  accounts  for  your  errand,  you  are  on  a  wild 
goose  chase,  Mr.  Spencer." 

He  had  not  heard  the  American's  words  clearly; 
but  he  gathered  sufficient  to  account  for  the 
younger  man's  motive  in  following  them,  and  was 
furiously  annoyed  by  this  unlocked  for  interruption. 
He  had  no  syllable  of  thanks  for  a  friendly  action. 
Though  no  small  risk  attended  the  crossing  of  the 
Forno  during  a  gale,  it  was  evident  he  strongly  re- 
sented the  presence  of  both  Spencer  and  the  guide. 

Helen,  after  her  first  eager  outburst,  was  tongue 
tied.  She  saw  that  her  would-be  rescuers  were  drip- 
ping wet,  and  was  -amazed  that  Bower  should  greet 
them  so  curtly,  though,  to  be  sure,  she  believed  im- 
plicitly that  the  storm  would  soon  pass.  Stampa 
was  already  inside  the  hut.  He  was  haranguing 
Barth  and  the  porter  vehemently,  and  they  were  lis- 
tening with  a  curious  submissiveness. 

Spencer  was  the  most  collected  person  present. 
He  brushed  aside  Bower's  acrimony  as  lightly  as 
he  had  accepted  Helen's  embarrassed  explanation. 
"  This  is  not  my  hustle  at  all,"  he  said.  "  Stampa 
heard  that  his  adored  signorina " 

"Stampa!     Is  that  Stampa?" 

Bower's  strident  voice  was  hushed  to  a  hoarse 
murmur.  It  reminded  one  of  his  hearers  of  a  growl- 
ing dog  suddenly  cowed  by  fear.  Helen's  ears  were 
tuned  to  this  perplexing  note;  but  Spencer  inter- 
preted it  according  to  his  dislike  of  the  man. 

178 


"  ETTA'S  FATHER  " 

"  Stampa  heard,"  he  went  on,  with  cold-drawn 
precision,  "  that  Miss  Wynton  had  gone  to  the 
Forno.  He  is  by  far  the  most  experienced  guide  to 
be  found  on  this  side  of  the  Alps,  and  he  believes 
that  anyone  remaining  up  here  to-day  will  surely 
be  imprisoned  in  the  hut  a  week  or  more  by  bad 
weather.  In  fact,  even  now  an  hour  may  make  all 
the  difference  between  danger  and  safety.  Perhaps 
you  can  convince  him  he  is  wrong.  I  know  nothing 
about  it,  beyond  the  evidence  of  my  senses,  backed 
up  by  some  acquaintance  with  blizzards.  Anyhow, 
I  am  inclined  to  think  that  Miss  Wynton  will  be 
wise  if  she  listens  to  the  points  of  the  argument  in 
the  hotel." 

"  Perhaps  it  would  be  better  to  return  at  once," 
said  Helen  timidly.  Her  sensitive  nature  warned 
her  that  these  two  men  were  ready  to  quarrel,  and 
that  she  herself,  in  some  nebulous  way,  was  the  cause 
of  their  mutual  enmity. 

Beyond  this  her  intuition  could  not  travel.  It  was 
impossible  that  she  should  realize  how  sorely  her  wish 
to  placate  Bower  disquieted  Spencer.  He  had  seen 
the  two  under  conditions  that  might,  indeed,  be 
explicable  by  Helen's  fright;  but  he  would  extend 
no  such  charitable  consideration  to  Bower,  whose  con- 
duct, no  matter  how  it  was  viewed,  made  him  a 
rival.  Yes,  it  had  come  to  that.  Spencer  had  hardly 
spoken  a  word  to  Stampa  during  the  toilsome  jour- 
ney from  Maloja.  He  had  looked  facts^  stubbornly 
in  the  face,  and  the  looking  served  to  clear  certain 

179 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

doubts  from  his  heart  and  brain.  He  wanted  to 
woo  and  win  Helen  for  his  wife.  He  was  enmeshed 
in  a  net  of  his  own  contriving,  and  its  strands  were 
too  strong  to  be  broken.  If  Helen  was  reft  from 
him  now,  he  would  gaze  on  a  darkened  world  for 
many  a  day. 

But  he  was  endowed  with  a  splendid  self  control. 
That  element  of  cast  steel  in  his  composition,  dis- 
covered by  Dunston  after  five  minutes'  acquaintance, 
kept  him  rigid  under  the  strain. 

"  Sorry  I  should  figure  as  spoiling  your  excur- 
sion, Miss  Wynton,"  he  was  able  to  say  calmly; 
"  but,  when  all  is  said  and  done,  the  weather  is  bad, 
and  you  will  have  plenty  of  fine  days  later." 

Bower  crept  nearer.  His  action  suggested  stealth. 
Although  the  wind  was  howling  under  the  deep  eaves 
of  the  hut,  he  almost  whispered.  "  Yes,  you  are 
right — quite  right.  Let  us  go  now — at  once.  With 
you  and  me,  Mr.  Spencer,  Miss  Wynton  will  be 
safe — safer  than  with  the  guides.  They  can  follow 
with  the  stores.  Come !  There  is  no  time  to  be 
lost!" 

The  others  were  so  taken  aback  by  his  astounding 
change  of  front  that  they  were  silent  for  an  in- 
stant. It  was  Helen  who  protested,  firmly  enough. 

"  The  lightning  seems  to  have  given  us  an  attack 
of  nerves,"  she  said.  "  It  would  be  ridiculous  to  rush 
off  in  that  manner " 

"  But  there  is  peril — real  peril — in  delay.  I  ad- 
mit it.  I  was  wrong." 

180 


"  ETTA'S  FATHER  " 

Bower's  anxiety  was  only  too  evident.  Spencer, 
regarding  him  from  a  single  viewpoint,  deemed  him 
a  coward,  and  his  gorge  rose  at  the  thought. 

"  Oh,  nonsense !  "  he  cried  contemptuously.  "  We 
shall  be  two  hours  on  the  glacier,  so  five  more  min- 
utes won't  cut  any  ice.  If  you  have  food  and  drink 
in  there,  Stampa  certainly  wants  both.  We  all  need 
them.  We  have  to  meet  that  gale  all  the  way.  The 
t\vo  hours  may  become  three  before  we  reach  the 
path." 

Helen  guessed  the  reason  of  his  disdain.  It  was 
unjust;  but  the  moment  did  not  permit  of  a  hint 
that  he  was  mistaken.  To  save  Bower  from  further 
commitment — which,  she  was  convinced,  was  due  en- 
tirely to  regard  for  her  own  safety — she  went  into 
the  hut. 

"  Stampa,"  she  said,  "  I  am  very  much  obliged 
to  you  for  taking  so  much  trouble.  I  suppose  we 
may  eat  something  before  we  start  ?  " 

"  Assuredly,  fraulein,"  he  cried.  "  Am  I  not  here? 
Were  it  to  begin  to  snow  at  once,  I  could  still  bring 
you  unharmed  to  the  chalets." 

Josef  Barth  had  borne  Stampa's  reproaches  with 
surly  deference;  but  he  refused  to  be  degraded  in 
this  fashion — before  Karl,  too,  whose  tongue  wagged 
so  loosely. 

"  That  is  the  talk  of  a  foolish  boy,  not  of  a 
man,"  he  cried  wrathfully.  "  Am  I  not  fitted, 
then,  to  take  mademoiselle  home  after  bringing  her 
here?" 

181 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

"  Truly,  on  a  fine  day,  Josef,"  was  the  smiling 
answer. 

"  I  told  monsieur  that  a  guxe  was  blowing  up 
from  the  south;  so  did  Karl;  but  he  would  not 
hearken.  Ma  foil  I  am  not  to  blame."  Barth,  on 
his  dignity,  introduced  a  few  words  of  French  picked 
up  from  the  Chamounix  men.  He  fancied  they 
would  awe  Stampa,  and  prove  incidentally  how  wide 
was  his  own  experience. 

The  old  guide  onl}-  laughed.  "  A  nice  pair,  you 
and  Karl,"  he  shouted.  "  Are  the  voyageurs  in  your 
care  or  not?  You  told  monsieur,  indeed!  You 
ought  to  have  refused  to  take  mademoiselle.  That 
would  have  settled  the  affair,  I  fancy." 

"  But  this  monsieur  knows  as  much  about  the 
mountains  as  any  of  us.  He  might  surprise  even 
you,  Stampa.  He  has  climbed  the  Matterhorn 
from  Zermatt  and  Breuil.  He  has  come  down 
the  rock  wall  on  the  Col  des  Nantillons.  How  is 
one  to  argue  with  such  a  voyageur  on  this  child's 
glacier?  " 

Stampa  whistled.  "  Oh — knows  the  Matterhorn, 
does  he?  What  is  his  name?  " 

"  Bower,"  said  Helen, — "  Mr.  Mark  Bower." 

"  What!  Say  that  again,  fraulein!  Mark  Bower? 
Is  that  your  English  way  of  putting  it?  " 

Helen  attributed  Stampa's  low  hiss  to  a  tardy 
recognition  of  Bower's  fame  as  a  mountaineer. 
Though  the  hour  was  noon,  the  light  was  feeble. 
Veritable  thunder  clouds  had  gathered  above  the 

182 


"  ETTA'S  FATHER  " 

mist,  and  the  expression  of  Stampa's  face  was  al- 
most hidden  in  the  obscurity  of  the  hut. 

"  That  is  his  name,"  she  repeated.  "  You  must 
have  heard  of  him.  He  was  well  known  on  the  high 
Alps — years  ago."  She  paused  before  she  added 
those  concluding  words.  She  was  about  to  say  "  in 
your  time,"  but  the  substituted  phrase  was  less  per- 
sonal, since  the  circumstances  under  which  Stampa 
ceased  to  be  a  notability  in  "  the  street  "  at  Zermatt 
were  in  her  mind. 

"  God  in  heaven ! "  muttered  the  old  man,  passing 
a  hand  over  his  face  as  though  waking  from  a 
dream, — "  God  in  heaven !  can  it  be  that  my  prayer 
is  answered  at  last  ?  "  He  shambled  out. 

Spencer  had  waited  to  watch  the  almost  continu- 
ous blaze  of  lightning  playing  on  the  glacier.  Dis- 
tant summits  were  now  looming  through  the  dimin- 
ishing downpour  of  sleet.  He  was  wondering  if  by 
any  chance  Stampa  might  be  mistaken.  Bower  stood 
somewhat  apart,  seemingly  engaged  in  the  same  en- 
grossing task.  The  wind  was  not  quite  so  fierce 
as  during  its  first  onset.  It  blew  in  gusts.  No 
longer  screaming  in  a  shrill  and  sustained  note,  it 
wailed  fitfully. 

Stampa  lurched  unevenly  close  to  Bower.  He  was 
about  to  touch  him  on  the  shoulder ;  but  he  appeared 
to  recollect  himself  in  time. 

"  Marcus  Bauer,"  he  said  in  a  voice  that  was  ter- 
rible by  reason  of  its  restraint. 

Bower  wheeled  suddenly.  He  did  not  flinrh.  His 
183 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

manner  suggested  a  certain  preparedness.  Thus 
might  a  strong  man  face  a  wild  beast  when  hope 
lay  only  in  the  matching  of  sinew  against  sinew. 
"  That  is  not  my  name,"  he  snarled  viciously. 

"  Marcus  Bauer,"  repeated  Stampa  in  the  same 
repressed  monotone,  "  I  am  Etta's  father." 

"  Why  do  you  address  me  in  that  fashion  ?  I  have 
never  before  seen  you." 

"  No.  You  took  care  of  that.  You  feared  Etta's 
father,  though  you  cared  little  for  Christian  Stampa, 
the  guide.  But  I  have  seen  you,  Marcus  Bauer. 
You  were  slim  then — an  elegant,  is  it  not? — and 
many  a  time  have  I  hobbled  into  the  Hotel  Mont 
Cervin  to  look  at  your  portrait  in  a  group  lest  I 
should  forget  your  face.  Yet  I  passed  you  just 
now !  Great  God !  I  passed  you." 

A  ferocity  glared  from  Bower's  eyes  that  might 
well  have  daunted  Stampa.  For  an  instant  he 
glanced  toward  Spencer,  whose  clear  cut  profile  was 
silhouetted  against  a  background  of  white-blue  ice 
now  gleaming  in  a  constant  flutter  of  lightning. 
Stampa  was  not  yet  aware  of  the  true  cause  of 
Bower's  frenzy.  He  thought  that  terror  was  spur- 
ring him  to  self  defense.  An  insane  impulse  to  kill, 
to  fight  with  the  nails  and  teeth,  almost  mastered 
him;  but  that  must  not  be  yet. 

"  It  is  useless,  Marcus  Bauer,"  he  said,  with  a 
calmness  so  horribly  unreal  that  its  deadly  intent 
was  all  the  more  manifest.  "  I  am  the  avenger,  not 
you.  I  can  tear  you  to  pieces  with  my  hands  when 


"ETTA'S  FATHER" 

I  will.  It  would  be  here  and  now,  were  it  not  for 
the  presence  of  the  English  sigiiorina  who  saved  me 
from  death.  It  is  not  meet  that  she  should  witness 
your  expiation.  That  is  to  be  settled  between  you 
and  me  alone." 

Bower  made  one  last  effort  to  assert  himself. 
"  You  are  talking  in  riddles,  man,"  he  said.  "  If 
you  believe  you  have  some  long  forgotten  grievance 
against  one  of  my  name,  come  and  see  me  to-morrow 
at  the  hotel.  Perhaps " 

"  Yes,  I  shall  see  you  to-morrow.  Do  not  dream 
that  you  can  escape  me.  Now  that  I  know  you  live, 
I  would  search  the  wide  world  for  you.  Blessed 
Mother!  How  you  must  have  feared  me  all  these 
years ! " 

Stampa  was  using  the  Romansch  dialect  of  the 
Italian  Alps.  Bower  spoke  in  German.  Spencer 
heard  them  indistinctly.  He  marveled  that  they 
should  discuss,  as  he  imagined,  the  state  of  the 
weather  with  such  subdued  passion. 

"  Hello,  Christian,"  he  cried,  "  the  clouds  are  lift- 
ing somewhat.  Where  is  your  promised  snow?" 

Stampa  peered  up  into  Bower's  face;  for  his 
twisted  leg  had  reduced  his  own  unusual  height  by 
many  inches.  "  To-morrow !  "  he  whispered.  "  At 
ten  o'clock — outside  the  hotel.  Then  we  have  a  set- 
tlement. Is  it  so  ?  " 

There  was  no  answer.  Bower  was  wrestling  with 
a  mad  desire  to  grapple  with  him  and  fling  him  down 
among  the  black  rocks.  Stampa  crept  nearer.  A 

185 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

ghastly  smile  lit  his  rugged  features,  and  his  pickel 
clattered  to  the  broken  shingle  at  his  feet. 

"  I  offer  you  to-morrow,"  he  said.  "  I  am  in  no 
hurry.  Have  I  not  waited  sixteen  years?  But  it 
may  be  that  you  are  tortured  by  a  devil,  Marcus 
Bauer.  Shall  it  be  novw?  " 

The  clean-souled  peasant  believed  that  the  million- 
aire had  a  conscience.  Not  yet  did  he  understand 
that  balked  desire  is  stronger  than  any  conscience. 
It  really  seemed  that  nothing  could  withhold  these 
two  from  mortal  struggle  then  and  there.  Spencer 
was  regarding  them  curiously;  but  they  paid  no 
heed  to  him.  Bower's  tongue  was  darting  in  and 
out  between  his  teeth.  The  red  blood  surged  to  his 
temples.  Stampa  was  still  smiling.  His  lips  moved 
in  the  strangest  prayer  that  ever  came  from  a  man's 
heart.  He  was  actually  thanking  the  Madonna — 
mother  of  the  great  peacemaker — for  having  brought 
his  enemy  within  reach! 

"  Mr.  Bower ! "  came  Helen's  voice  from  the  door 
of  the  cabane.  "  Why  don't  you  j  oin  us  ?  And 
you,  Mr.  Spencer?  Stampa,  come  here  and  eat  at 
once." 

*'  To-morrow,  at  ten  ?  Or  now  ?  "  the  old  man 
whispered  again. 

"  To-morrow — curse  you !  " 

Stampa  twisted  himself  round.  "  I  am  not  hun- 
gry, fraulein,"  he  cried.  "  I  ate  chocolate  all  the 
way  up  the  glacier.  But  do  you  be  speedy.  We 
have  lost  too  much  time  already." 

186 


"  ETTA'S  FATHER  " 

Bower  brushed  past,  and  the  guide  stooped  to 
recover  his  ice  ax.  Spencer,  though  troubled  suffi- 
ciently by  his  own  disturbing  fantasies,  did  not  fail 
to  notice  their  peculiar  behavior.  But  he  answered 
Helen  with  a  pleasant  disclaimer. 

"  Christian  kept  his  hoard  a  secret,  Miss  Wyn- 
ton.  I  too  have  lost  my  appetite,"  said  he. 

"  Once  we  start  we  shall  hardly  be  able  to  unpack 
the  hamper  again,"  said  Helen. 

The  American  was  trying  her  temper.  She  sus- 
pected that  he  carried  his  hostility  to  the  absurd 
pitch  of  refusing  to  partake  of  any  food  provided 
by  Bower.  It  was  a  queer  coincidence  that  Spencer 
harbored  the  same  notion  with  regard  to  Stampa, 
and  wondered  at  it. 

"  I  shall  starve  willingly,"  he  said.  "  It  will  be 
a  just  punishment  for  declining  the  good  things 
that  did  not  tempt  me  when  they  were  available." 

Bower  poured  out  a  quantity  of  wine  and  drank 
it  at  a  gulp.  He  refilled  the  glass  and  nearly  emp- 
tied it  a  second  time.  But  he  touched  not  a  morsel 
of  meat  or  bread.  Helen,  fortunately,  attributed 
the  conduct  of  the  men  to  spleen.  She  ate  a  sand- 
wich, and  found  that  she  was  far  more  ready  for 
a  meal  than  she  had  imagined. 

Stampa's  broad  frame  darkened  the  doorway.  He 
told  Karl  not  to  burden  himself  with  anything  save 
the  cutlery.  Now  that  he  was  the  skilled  guide 
again,  the  leader  in  whom  they  trusted,  his  worn 
face  was  animated  and  his  voice  eager. 

187 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

Helen  heard  Spencer's  exclamation  without. 

"  By  Jove,  Stampa !  you  are  right !  Here  comes 
the  snow." 

"  Quick,  quick !  "  cried  Stampa.  "  Vorzcartz, 
Barth.  You  lead.  Stop  at  my  call.  Karl  next — 
then  the  frdulein  and  my  monsieur.  Yours  follows, 
and  I  come  last." 

"  No,  no ! "  burst  out  Bower,  lowering  a  third 
glass  of  wine  from  his  lips. 

"  Che  diavolo!  It  shall  be  as  I  have  said ! " 
shouted  Stampa,  with  an  imperious  gesture.  Helen 
remarked  it;  but  things  were  being  done  and  said 
that  were  inexplicable.  Even  Bower  was  silenced. 

"  Are  we  to  be  roped,  then  ?  "  growled  Barth. 

"  Have  you  never  crossed  ice  during  a  snow 
storm?"  asked  Stampa. 

In  a  few  minutes  they  were  ready.  The  lightning 
flashes  were  less  frequent,  and  the  thunder  was  mut- 
tering far  away  amid  the  secret  places  of  the 
Bernina.  The  wind  was  rising  again.  Instead  of 
sleet  it  carried  snowflakes,  and  these  did  not  sting 
the  face  nor  patter  on  the  ice.  But  they  clung 
everywhere,  and  the  sable  rocks  were  taking  unto 
themselves  a  new  garment. 

"  Vori&artz! "  rang  out  Stampa's  trumpet  like 
call,  and  Barth  leaped  down  into  the  moraine. 


188 


CHAPTER  X 

ON    THE    GLACIER 

BARTH,  a  good  man  on  ice  and  rock,  was  not  a 
genius  among  guides.  Faced  by  an  apparently  un- 
scalable rock  wall,  or  lost  in  a  wilderness  of  seracs, 
he  would  never  guess  the  one  way  that  led  to  suc- 
cess. But  he  was  skilled  in  the  technic  of  his  pro- 
fession, and  did  not  make  the  mistake  now  of  sub- 
jecting Helen  or  Spencer  to  the  risk  of  an  ugly 
fall.  The  air  temperature  had  dropped  from  eighty 
degrees  Fahrenheit  to  below  freezing  point.  Rocks 
that  gave  safe  foothold  an  hour  earlier  were  now 
glazed  with  an  amalgam  of  sleet  and  snow.  If,  in  his 
dull  mind,  he  wondered  why  Spencer  came  next  to 
Helen,  rather  than  Bower  or  Stampa, — either  of 
whom  would  know  exactly  when  to  give  that  timely 
aid  with  the  rope  that  imparts  such  confidence  to 
the  novice, — he  said  nothing.  Stampa's  eye  was  on 
him.  His  pride  was  up  in  arms.  It  behoved  him  to 

189 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

press  on  at  just  the  right  pace,  and  commit  no 
blunder. 

Helen,  who  had  been  glad  to  get  back  to  the 
moraine  during  the  ascent,  was  ready  to  breathe  a 
sigh  of  relief  when  she  felt  her  feet  on  the  ice  again. 
Those  treacherous  rocks  were  affrighting.  They 
bereft  her  of  trust  in  her  own  limbs.  She  seemed 
to  slip  here  and  there  without  power  to  check  her- 
self. She  expected  at  any  moment  to  stumble  help- 
lessly on  some  cruelly  sharp  angle  of  a  granite 
boulder,  and  find  that  she  was  maimed  so  badly  as 
to  render  another  step  impossible.  More  than  once 
she  was  sensible  that  the  restraining  pull  on  the  rope 
alone  held  her  from  disaster.  Her  distress  did  not 
hinder  the  growth  of  a  certain  surprise  that  the 
American  should  be  so  sure  footed,  so  quick  to  judge 
her  needs.  When  by  his  help  a  headlong  downward 
plunge  was  converted  into  a  harmless  slide  over  the 
sloping  face  of  a  rock,  she  half  turned. 

"  I  must  thank  you  for  that  afterward,"  she  said, 
with  a  fine  effort  at  a  smile. 

"  Eyes  front,  please,"  was  the  quiet  answer. 

Under  less  strenuous  conditions  it  might  have 
sounded  curt;  but  the  look  that  met  hers  robbed 
the  words  of  their  tenseness,  and  sent  the  hot  blood 
tingling  in  her  veins.  Bower  had  never  looked  at 
her  like  that.  Just  as  some  unusually  vivid  flash  of 
lightning  revealed  the  hidden  depths  of  a  crevasse, 
bringing  plainly  before  the  eye  chinks  and  crannies 
not  discernible  in  the  strongest  sunlight,  so  did  the 

190 


ON  THE  GLACIER 

glimpse  of  Spencer's  soul  illumine  her  understanding. 
He  was  not  only  safeguarding  her,  but  thinking  of 
her,  and  the  stolen  knowledge  set  up  a  bewildering 
tumult  in  her  heart. 

"  Attention  !  "  shouted  Barth,  halting  and  making 
a  drive  at  something  with  his  ax. 

The  line  stopped.  Stampa's  ringing  voice  came 
over  Helen's  head: 

"What  is  that  ahead  there?" 

"  A  new  fall,  I  think.  We  ought  to  leave  the 
moraine  a  little  lower  down ;  but  this  was  not  here 
when  we  ascended." 

How  either  man,  Stampa  especially,  could  see  any- 
thing at  all,  was  beyond  the  girl's  comprehension. 
The  snow  was  absolutely  blinding.  The  wind  was 
full  in  their  faces,  and  it  carried  the  huge  flakes  up- 
ward. They  seemed  to  spring  from  beneath  rather 
than  drop  from  the  clouds.  Ever  and  anon  a  weirdly 
blue  gleam  of  lightning  would  give  a  demoniac  touch 
to  a  scene  worthy  of  the  Inferno. 

"  Make  for  the  ice — quick !  "  cried  Stampa,  and 
Barth  turned  sharply  to  the  left.  Falling  stones 
were  now  their  chief  danger,  and  both  men  were 
anxious  to  avoid  it. 

After  a  brief  scramble  they  mounted  the  curving 
glacier.  A  fiercer  gust  shrieked  at  them  and  swept 
some  small  space  clear  of  snow.  Helen  had  a  dim 
vision  of  lightning  playing  above  the  crest  of  a 
great  mound  on  the  edge  of  the  ice  field, — a  mound 
that  she  did  not  remember  seeing  before.  Then  the 

191 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

gale  sank  back  to  its  sustained  howling,  the  snow 
swirled  in  denser  volume,  and  the  specter  vanished. 

Ere  they  had  gone  another  hundred  yards,  Earth's 
hoarse  warning  checked  them  again.  "  The  bridge 
lias  fallen ! "  was  his  cry.  "  There  has  been  an  ice 
movement." 

There  was  a  question  in  the  man's  words.  Here 
was  a  nice  point  submitted  to  his  judgment, — 
whether  to  follow  the  line  of  the  recently  formed 
schrund  yawning  at  his  feet,  or  endeavor  to  cross 
it,  or  go  back  to  the  scene  of  the  landslip?  That 
was  where  Barth  was  lacking.  In  that  instant  he 
resigned  his  pride  of  place  without  further  effort 
to  retain  it.  He  was  in  the  van,  but  did  not  lead. 
Thenceforth  Stampa  was  master. 

"  What  is  the  width — ten  meters  ?  "  demanded  the 
old  guide  cheerfully. 

"About  that." 

"  All  the  better.  It  is  not  deep  here.  The  shock 
of  that  avalanche  opened  it  up.  You  will  find  a  way 
down.  Cut  the  steps  close  together.  You  know  how 
to  polish  them,  Karl?  " 

"  Yes,  I  can  do  that,"  said  the  porter. 

"  And  watch  the  signorina's  feet." 

"  Yes,  I'll  take  care." 

Barth  was  peering  fixedly  into  the  chasm.  To 
Helen's  fancy  it  was  bottomless,  though  in  reality 
it  was  not  more  than  forty  feet  deep,  and  the  two 
walls  fell  away  from  each  other  at  a  practicable 
angle.  In  normal  summer  weather,  a  small  crevasse 

192 


ON  THE  GLACIER 

always  formed  there  owing  to  the  glacier  flowing 
over  a  transverse  ridge  of  rock  beneath.  To-day 
the  impact  of  many  thousands  of  tons  of  debris  had 
disrupted  the  ice  to  an  unusual  extent.  Having  de- 
cided on  the  best  line,  the  leading  guide  stepped 
over  into  space.  Helen  heard  his  ax  ringing  as  he 
fashioned  secure  foothold  down  the  steep  ledge  he 
had  selected.  He  was  quite  trustworthy  in  such  work. 

Stampa,  who  had  a  thought  for  none  save  Helen, 
gave  her  a  reassuring  word.  "  Barth  will  find  a  way, 
fraulein,"  he  said.  "  And  Herr  Spencer  knows  how 
you  should  cross  your  feet  and  carry  your  ax,  while 
Karl  will  see  to  your  foothold.  Remember  too  that 
you  will  be  at  the  bottom  before  I  begin  the  descent, 
so  no  harm  can  come  to  you.  Try  and  stand 
straight.  Don't  lean  against  the  slope.  Lean  away 
from  it.  Don't  be  afraid.  Don't  trust  to  the  rope 
or  the  grip  of  the  ax.  Rely  on  your  own  stand." 

It  was  no  time  to  pick  and  choose  phrases,  yet 
Helen  realized  the  oddity  of  the  absence  of  any  ref- 
erence to  Bower.  One  other  in  the  party  had  a 
thought  somewhat  akin  to  hers;  but  he  slurred  it 
over  in  his  mind,  and  seized  the  opportunity  to  help 
her  by  a  casual  remark. 

"  Guess  you  hardly  expected  genuine  ice  work  in 
to-day's  trip  ?  "  he  said.  "  Stampa  and  I  had  a  lot 
of  it  last  week.  It's  as  easy  as  walking  down  stairs 
when  you  know  how." 

"  I  don't  think  I  am  afraid,"  she  answered ;  "  but 
I  should  have  preferred  to  walk  up  stairs  first.  This 

198 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

is    rather    reversing    the    natural    order    of    things, 
isn't  it?  " 

"  Nature  loves  irregularities.  That  is  why  the 
prize  girl  in  every  novel  has  irregular  features.  A 
heroine  with  a  Greek  face  would  kill  a  whole  library." 

"  Vorwdrtz—es  geht!  " 

Earth's  gruff  voice  sounded  hollow  from  the 
depths.  Karl,  in  his  turn,  went  over  the  lip  of  the 
crevasse.  Helen,  conscious  of  an  exaltation  that 
lifted  her  out  of  the  region  of  ignoble  fear,  looked 
down.  She  could  see  now  what  was  being  done. 
Barth  was  swinging  his  ax  and  smiting  the  ice  with 
the  adz.  His  head  was  just  below  the  level  of  her 
feet,  though  he  was  distant  the  full  length  of  two 
sections  of  the  rope.  He  had  cut  broad  black  steps. 
They  did  not  seem  to  present  any  great  difficulty. 
Helen  found  herself  speculating  on  the  remarkable 
light  effects  that  made  these  notches  black  in  a  gray- 
green  wall. 

"  Right  foot  first,"  said  Spencer  quietly.  "  When 
that  is  firmly  fixed,  throw  all  your  weight  on  it,  and 
bring  the  left  down.  Then  the  right  again.  Hold 
the  pick  breast  high." 

"  So !  "  cried  Karl  appreciatively,  watching  her 
first  successful  effort. 

As  Spencer  was  lowering  himself  into  the  crevasse, 
he  heard  something  that  set  his  nimble  wits  agog. 
Stampa,  the  valiant  and  light  hearted  Stampa,  the 
genial  companion  who  had  laughed  and  jested  even 
when  they  were  crossing  an  ice  slope  on  the  giant 

194 


ON  THE  GLACIER 

Monte  della  Disgrazia, — a  traverse  of  precarious 
clinging,  where  a  slip  meant  death  a  thousand  feet 
below, — was  muttering  strangely  at  Bower. 

"  Schwein-hund! "  he  was  saying,  "  if  any  evil 
befalls  the  fraulein,  I  shall  drive  my  ax  between  your 
shoulder  blades." 

There  was  no  reply.  Spencer  was  sure  he  was  not 
mistaken.  Though  the  guide  spoke  German,  he 
knew  enough  of  that  language  to  understand  this 
comparatively  simple  sentence.  Quite  as  amazing  as 
Stampa's  threat  was  Bower's  silent  acceptance  of  it. 
He  began  to  piece  together  some  fleeting  impressions 
of  the  curious  wrangle  between  the  two  outside  the 
hut.  He  recalled  Bower's  extraordinary  change  of 
tone  when  told  that  a  man  named  Christian  Stampa 
had  followed  him  from  Maloja. 

Helen  was  just  taking  another  confident  step  for- 
ward and  down,  balancing  herself  with  graceful  as- 
surance. Spencer  had  a  few  seconds  in  which  to 
steal  a  backward  glance,  and  a  flash  of  lightning 
happened  to  glimmer  on  Bower's  features.  The 
American  was  not  given  to  fanciful  imaginings ;  but 
during  many  a  wild  hour  in  the  Far  West  he  had 
seen  the  baleful  frown  of  murder  on  a  man's  face 
too  often  not  to  recognize  it  now  in  this  snow 
scourged  cleft  of  a  mighty  Alpine  glacier.  Yet  he 
was  helpless.  He  could  neither  speak  nor  act  on  a 
mere  opinion.  He  could  only  watch,  and  be  on  his 
guard.  From  that  moment  he  tried  to  observe  every 
movement  not  only  of  Helen  but  of  Bower. 

195 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

The  members  of  the  party  were  roped  at  intervals 
of  twenty  feet.  Allowing  for  the  depth  of  the 
crevasse,  the  amount  of  rope  taken  up  in  their  hands 
ready  to  be  served  out  as  occasion  required,  and  the 
inclination  of  Earth's  line  of  descent,  the  latter  ought 
to  be  notching  the  opposing  wall  before  Stampa 
quitted  the  surface  of  the  glacier.  Though  Spencer 
could  not  see  Stampa  now,  he  knew  that  the  rear 
guide  was  bracing  himself  strongly  against  any  tell- 
tale jerk,  with  the  aditional  security  of  an  anchor 
obtained  by  driving  the  pick  of  his  ax  deeply  into 
the  surface  ice.  It  was  Bower's  business  to  keep 
the  rope  quite  taut  both  above  and  below;  but  the 
American  was  sure  that  he  was  gathering  the  slack 
behind  him  with  his  right  hand  while  he  carried  the 
ax  in  his  left,  and  did  not  use  it  to  steady  himself. 

Spencer  assumed,  from  various  comments  by 
Helen  and  others,  that  Bower  was  an  adept  climber. 
Therefore,  the  passage  of  a  schrund,  or  large,  shallow 
crevasse  was  child's  play  to  him.  This  departure  from 
all  the  canons  of  the  craft  as  imparted  by  Stampa 
during  their  first  week  on  the  hills  together,  struck 
Spencer  as  exceedingly  dangerous.  He  reflected 
that  were  it  not  for  the  words  he  had  overheard, 
he  would  never  have  known  of  this  curious  proceed- 
ing. Indeed,  but  for  those  words,  with  their  sinister 
significance  augmented  by  Bower's  devilish  expres- 
sion, had  he  even  looked  back  by  chance,  the 
maneuver  might  not  have  attracted  his  attention. 
What,  then,  did  it  imply?  Why  should  a  skilled 

196 


ON  THE  GLACIER 

mountaineer  break  an  imperative  rule  that  permits 
of  no  exceptions?  He  continued  to  watch  Bower 
even  more  closely.  He  devoted  to  the  task  every  in- 
stant that  consideration  for  Helen's  safety  and  his 
own  would  allow. 

There  was  not  much  light  in  the  crevasse.  Heavy 
clouds  and  the  smothering  snow  wraiths  hid  the  trav- 
elers under  a  dense  pall  that  suggested  the  approach 
of  night,  although  the  actual  time  was  about  half 
past  one  o'clock  in  the  afternoon.  The  wind  seemed 
to  delight  in  torturing  them  with  minute  particles 
of  ice  that  stung  with  a  peculiar  sensation  of  burn- 
ing. These  were  bad  enough.  To  add  to  their 
miseries,  fine,  powdery  snowflakes  settled  on  eyes 
and  eyelids  with  blinding  effect. 

During  a  particularly  baffling  gust  Helen  ut- 
tered a  slight  exclamation.  Instantly  Spencer  stiff- 
ened himself,  and  Barth  and  Karl  halted. 

"  It  is  nothing,"  she  cried.  "  For  a  second  I 
could  not  see." 

Earth's  ax  rang  out  again.  The  vibrations  of 
each  lusty  blow  could  be  felt  distinctly  along  the 
solid  ice  wall.  After  a  last  downward  step  he  would 
begin  to  notch  his  way  up  the  other  side,  where  the 
angle  was  much  more  favorable  to  rapid  progress. 
Spencer  stole  another  glance  over  his  shoulder. 
Bower  had  fully  ten  feet  of  the  rearmost  section  of 
rope  in  hand.  His  head  was  thrown  well  back. 
Standing  with  his  face  to  the  ice,  he  was  striving 
to  look  over  the  lip  of  the  schrund.  Stampa,  feel- 

197 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

ing  a  steady  tension,  must  be  expecting  the  announce- 
ment momentarily  that  Barth  was  crossing  the  nar- 
row crevice  at  the  bottom.  Helen  and  Karl,  intent 
on  the  operations  of  the  leader,  paid  heed  to  noth- 
ing else;  but  Spencer  was  fascinated  by  Bower's 
peculiar  actions. 

At  last,  Earth's  deep  bass  reverberated  trium- 
phantly upward.  "  Vorwartz!  " 

"  Vonvartz,  Stampa ! "  repeated  Bower,  suddenly 
changing  the  ice  ax  to  his  right  hand  and  stretching 
the  left  as  far  along  the  rope  and  as  high  up  as 
possible.  Simultaneously  he  raised  the  ax.  Then, 
and  not  till  then,  did  Spencer  understand.  Stampa 
must  be  on  the  point  of  relaxing  his  grip  and  pre- 
paring to  descend.  If  Bower  cut  the  rope  with  a 
single  stroke  of  the  adz,  a  violent  tug  at  the  sun- 
dered end  would  precipitate  Stampa  headlong  into 
the  crevasse,  while  there  would  be  ample  evidence  to 
show  that  he  had  himself  severed  the  rope  by  a  mis- 
calculated blow.  The  fall  would  surely  kill  him. 
When  his  corpse  was  recovered,  it  would  be  found 
that  the  cut  had  been  made  much  closer  to  his  own 
body  than  to  that  of  his  nearest  neighbor. 

"  Stop ! "  roared  Spencer,  all  aquiver  with  wrath 
at  his  discovery. 

Obedience  to  the  climbers'  law  held  the  others 
rigid.  That  command  implied  danger.  It  called 
for  an  instant  tightening  of  every  muscle  to  withstand 
the  strain  of  a  slip.  Even  Bower,  a  man  on  the 
very  brink  of  committing  a  fiendish  crime,  yielded 

198 


ON  THE  GLACIER 

to  a  subconscious  acceptance  of  the  law,  and  kept 
himself  braced  in  his  steps. 

The  American  was  well  fitted  to  handle  a  crisis 
of  that  nature.  "  Hold  fast,  Stampa !  "  he  shouted. 

"  What  is  wrong?  "  came  the  ready  cry,  for  the 
rear  guide  had  already  driven  the  pick  of  his  ax 
into  the  ice  again  after  having  withdrawn  it. 

Then  Spencer  spoke  English.  "  I  happen  to  be 
watching  you,"  he  said  slowly,  never  relaxing  a 
steel-cold  scrutiny  of  Bower's  livid  face.  "  You 
seem  to  forget  what  you  are  doing.  Follow  me  until 
you  have  taken  up  the  slack  of  the  rope.  Do  you 
understand  ?  " 

Bower  continued  to  gaze  at  him  with  lack-luster 
eyes.  All  he  realized  was  that  his  murderous  design 
was  frustrated;  but  how  or  why  he  neither  knew 
nor  cared. 

"  Do  you  hear  me  ?  "  demanded  Spencer  even  more 
sternly.  "  Come  along,  or  I  shall  explain  myself 
more  fully ! " 

Without  answering,  the  other  made  shift  to  move. 
Spencer,  however,  meant  to  save  the  unwitting  guide 
from  further  hazard. 

"  Don't  stir,  Stampa,  till  I  give  the  order ! "  he 
sang  out. 

"  All  right,  monsieur,  but  we  are  losing  time. 
What  is  Barth  doing  there?  Saperlotte!  If  I  were 
in  front " 

Bower,  who  owned  certain  strong  qualities,  swal- 
lowed something,  took  three  strides  downward,  and 

199 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

said  calmly :  "  I  was  waiting  to  give  Stampa  a  hand. 
He  is  lame,  you  know." 

Helen,  of  course,  heard  all  that  passed.  She  had 
long  since  abandoned  the  effort  to  disentangle  the 
skein  of  that  day's  events.  Everybody  was  talking 
and  acting  unnaturally.  Perhaps  the  ravel  of  things 
would  clear  itself  when  they  regained  the  common- 
place world  of  the  hotel.  In  any  case,  she  wished 
the  men  would  hurry,  for  it  was  unutterably  cold 
in  the  crevasse. 

At  last,  then,  there  was  a  movement  ahead. 

Barth  began  to  mount.  Muttering  an  instruction 
to  Karl  that  he  was  to  give  the  girl  a  friendly  pull, 
he  cut  smaller  steps  more  widely  apart  and  at  a 
steeper  gradient.  Soon  they  were  on  the  floor  of 
the  ice  and  hurrying  to  the  next  bridge.  Not  a  word 
was  spoken  by  anyone.  The  fury  of  the  gale  and 
the  ever  gathering  snow  made  it  imperative  that  not 
a  moment  should  be  wasted.  The  lightning  was  de- 
creasing perceptibly,  while  the  occasional  peals  of 
thunder  were  scarcely  audible  above  the  soughing  of 
the  wind.  A  tremendous  crash  on  the  right  an- 
nounced the  fall  of  another  avalanche;  but  it  did 
not  affect  the  next  broad  crevasse.  The  bridge  they 
had  used  a  few  hours  earlier  stood  firm.  Indeed,  it 
was  new  welded  by  regelation  since  the  sun's  rays 
had  disappeared. 

The  leader  kept  a  perfect  line,  never  deviating 
from  the  right  track.  Helen,  who  had  completely 
lost  her  bearings,  thought  they  had  a  long  way 

200 


ON  THE  GLACIER 

farther  to  go,  when  she  saw  Barth  stop  and  begin 
to  unfasten  the  rope.  Then  a  thrust  with  the  butt 
of  her  pickel  told  her  that  she  was  standing  on  rock. 
When  she  cleared  her  eyes  of  the  flying  snow,  she 
saw  a  well  defined  curving  ribbon  amid  the  white 
chaos.  It  was  the  path,  covered  six  inches  deep. 
The  violent  exertions  of  nearly  three  hours  since 
she  left  the  hut  had  induced  a  pleasant  sense  of  lan- 
guor. Did  she  dare  to  suggest  it,  she  would  have 
liked  to  sit  down  and  rest  for  awhile. 

Bower,  who  had  substituted  reasoned  thought  for 
his  madness,  addressed  Spencer  with  easy  compla- 
cence while  Barth  was  unroping  them.  "  Why  did 
you  believe  that  I  was  doing  a  risky  thing  in  stop- 
ping to  assist  Stampa?"  he  asked. 

"  I  guess  you  know  best,"  was  the  uncompro- 
mising answer. 

"  Yes,  I  think  I  do.  Of  course,  I  could  not  argue 
the  matter  then,  but  I  fancy  my  climbing  experience 
is  far  greater  than  yours,  Mr.  Spencer." 

His  sheer  impudence  was  admirable.  He  even 
smiled  in  the  superior  way  of  an  expert  lecturing 
a  novice.  But  Spencer  did  not  smile. 

"  Do  you  really  want  to  hear  my  views  on  your 
conduct?"  he  said. 

"  No,  thanks.  The  discussion  might  prove  inter- 
esting, but  we  can  adjourn  it  to  the  coffee  and 
cigar  period  after  dinner." 

His  eyes  fell  under  Spencer's  contemptuous 
glance.  Yet  he  carried  himself  bravely.  Though 

201 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

the  man  he  meant  to  kill,  and  another  man  who  had 
read  his  inmost  thought  in  time  to  prevent  a  tragedy, 
were  looking  at  him  fixedly,  he  turned  away  with 
a  laugh  on  his  lips. 

"  I  am  afraid,  Miss  Wynton,  you  will  regard  me 
in  future  as  a  broken  reed  where  Alpine  excursions 
are  concerned,"  he  said. 

"  You  were  mistaken — that  is  obvious,"  said  Helen 
frankly.  "  But  so  was  Barth.  He  agreed  that  the 
storm  would  be  only  a  passing  affair.  Don't  you 
think  we  are  very  deeply  indebted  to  Mr.  Spencer 
and  Stampa  for  coming  to  our  assistance?  " 

"  I  do,  indeed.  Stampa,  one  can  reward  in  kind. 
This  sort  of  thing  used  to  be  his  business,  I  hear. 
As  for  Mr.  Spencer,  a  smile  from  you  will  repay 
him  tenfold." 

*'  Herr  Spencer,"  broke  in  Stampa,  "  you  go  on 
with  the  signorina  and  see  that  she  does  not  slip. 
She  is  tired.  Marcus  Bauer  and  I  have  matters  to 
discuss." 

The  old  man's  unwonted  harshness  appealed  to  the 
girl  as  did  the  host  of  other  queer  happenings  on 
that  memorable  day.  Bower  moved  uneasily.  A 
vindictive  gleam  shot  from  his  eyes.  Helen  missed 
none  of  this.  But  she  was  fatigued,  and  her  feet 
were  cold  and  wet,  while  the  sleet  encountered  on  the 
upper  glacier  had  almost  soaked  her  to  the  skin. 
Nevertheless,  she  strove  bravely  to  lighten  the  cloud 
that  seemed  to  have  settled  on  the  men. 

"  That  means  a  wordy  warfare,"  she  said  gayly. 
202 


ON  THE  GLACIER 

"  I  pity  you,  Mr.  Bower.  You  cannot  wriggle  out 
of  your  difficulty.  The  snow  will  soon  be  a  foot 
deep  in  the  valley.  Goodness  only  knows  what 
would  have  become  of  us  up  there  in  the  hut !  " 

He  bowed  gracefully,  with  a  hint  of  the  foreign 
air  she  had  noted  once  before.  "  I  would  have 
brought  you  safely  out  of  greater  perils,"  he  said ; 
"  but  every  dog  has  his  day,  and  this  is  Stampa's." 

"  En  route ! "  cried  the  guide  impatiently.  He 
loathed  the  sight  of  Bower  standing  there,  smiling 
and  courteous,  in  the  presence  of  one  whom  he  re- 
garded as  a  Heaven-sent  friend  and  protectress. 
Spencer  attributed  his  surliness  to  its  true  cause. 
It  supplied  another  bit  of  the  mosaic  he  was  slowly 
piecing  together.  Greatly  as  he  preferred  Helen's 
company,  he  was  willing  to  sacrifice  at  least  ten 
minutes  of  it,  could  he  but  listen  to  the  "  discus- 
sion "  between  Stampa  and  Bower. 

Therein  he  would  have  erred  greatly.  Helen  was 
tired,  and  she  admitted  it.  She  did  not  decline  his 
aid  when  the  path  was  steep  and  slippery.  In  de- 
lightful snatches  of  talk  they  managed  to  say  a 
good  deal  to  each  other,  and  Helen  did  not  fail  to 
make  plain  the  exact  circumstances  under  which  she 
first  caught  sight  of  Spencer  outside  the  hut.  When 
they  arrived  at  the  carriage  road,  which  begins  at 
Lake  Cavloccio,  they  could  walk  side  by  side  and 
chat  freely.  Here,  in  the  valley,  matters  were  nor- 
mal. The  snow  did  not  place  such  a  veil  on  all 
things.  The  windings  of  the  road  often  brought 

203 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

them  abreast  of  the  four  men  in  the  rear.  Bower 
was  trudging  along  alone,  holding  his  head  down, 
and  seemingly  lost  in  thought. 

Close  behind  him  came  Stampa  and  the  En- 
gadiners.  Karl,  of  course,  was  talking — the  others 
might  or  might  not  be  lending  their  ears  to  his  in- 
terminable gossip. 

"  We  are  outstripping  our  companions.  Don't 
you  think  we  ought  to  wait  for  them?  "  said  Helen 
once,  when  Bower  chanced  to  look  her  way. 

"  No,"  said  Spencer. 

"  You  are  exceedingly  positive." 

"  I  tried  to  be  exceedingly  negative." 

"But  why?" 

"  I  rather  fancy  that  they  would  jar  on  us." 

"  But  Stampa's  promised  lecture  appears  to  have 
ended?" 

"  I  think  it  never  began.  It  is  a  safe  bet  that  Mr. 
Bower  and  he  have  not  exchanged  a  word  since  our 
last  halt." 

Helen  laughed.  "  A  genuine  case  of  Greek  meet- 
ing Greek,"  she  said.  "  Stampa  is  an  excellent 
guide,  I  am  sure;  but  Mr.  Bower  does  really  know 
these  mountains.  I  suppose  anyone  is  liable  to  err 
in  forecasting  Alpine  weather." 

"  That  is  nothing.  If  it  were  you  or  I,  Stampa 
would  dismiss  the  point  with  a  grin.  You  heard 
how  he  chaffed  Barth,  yet  trusted  him  with  the 
lead?  No.  These  two  have  an  old  feud  to  settle. 
You  will  hear  more  of  it." 

204 


ON  THE  GLACIER 

"  A  feud !  Mr.  Bower  declared  to  me  that  Stampa 
was  absolutely  unknown  to  him." 

"  It  isn't  necessary  to  know  a  man  before  you 
hate  him.  I  can  give  you  a  heap  of  historic  ex- 
amples. For  instance,  who  has  a  good  word  to  say 
for  Ananias  ?  " 

The  girl  understood  that  he  meant  to  parry  her 
question  with  a  quip.  The  cross  purposes  so  much 
in  evidence  all  day  were  baffling  and  mysterious  to 
its  close. 

"  My  own  opinion  is  that  both  you  and  Stampa 
have  taken  an  unreasonable  dislike  to  Mr.  Bower," 
she  said  determinedly.  The  words  were  out  before 
she  quite  realized  their  import.  She  flushed  a  little. 

Spencer  was  gazing  down  into  the  gorge  of  the 
Orlegna.  The  brawling  torrent  chimed  with  his  own 
mood;  but  his  set  face  gave  no  token  of  the  storm 
within.  He  only  said  quietly,  "  How  good  it  must 
be  to  have  you  as  a  friend !  " 

"  I  have  no  reason  to  feel  other  than  friendly 
to  Mr.  Bower,"  she  protested  hotly.  "  It  was  the 
rarest  good  fortune  for  me  that  he  came  to  Maloja. 
I  met  him  once  in  London,  and  a  second  time,  by 
accident,  during  my  journey  to  Switzerland.  Yet, 
widely  known  as  he  is  in  society,  he  was  sufficiently 
large  minded  to  disregard  the  sneers  and  innuendoes 
of  some  of  those  horrid  women  in  the  hotel.  He 
has  gone  out  of  his  way  to  show  me  every  kindness. 
Why  should  I  not  repay  it  by  speaking  well  of 
him?" 

205 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

"  I  shall  lay  my  head  on  the  nearest  tree  stump, 
and  you  can  smite  me  with  your  ax,  good  and  hard," 
said  Spencer. 

She  laughed  angrily.  "  I  don't  know  what  evil 
influence  is  possessing  us,"  she  cried.  "  Everything 
is  awry.  Even  the  sun  refuses  to  shine.  Here  am 
I  storming  at  one  to  whom  I  owe  my  life " 

"  No,"  he  broke  in  decisively.  "  Don't  put  it  that 
way,  because  the  whole  credit  of  the  relief  expedi- 
tion is  due  to  Stampa.  Say,  Miss  Wynton,  may  I 
square  my  small  services  by  asking  a  favor?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  indeed." 

"  Well,  then,  if  it  lies  in  your  power,  keep  Stampa 
and  Bower  apart.  In  any  event,  don't  intervene  in 
their  quarrel." 

"  So  you  are  quite  serious  in  your  belief  that 
there  is  a  quarrel?  " 

The  American  saw  again  in  his  mind's  eye  the 
scene  in  the  crevasse  when  Bower  had  raised  his  ax 
to  strike.  "  Quite  serious,"  he  replied,  and  the 
gravity  in  his  voice  was  so  marked  that  Helen  placed 
a  contrite  hand  on  his  arm  for  an  instant. 

"  Please,  I  am  sorry  if  I  was  rude  to  you  just 
now,"  she  said.  "  I  have  had  a  long  day,  and  my 
nerves  are  worn  to  a  fine  edge.  I  used  to  flatter  my- 
self that  I  hadn't  any  nerves ;  but  they  have  come 
to  the  surface  here.  It  must  be  the  thin  air." 

"  Then  it  is  a  bad  place  for  an  American." 

"  Ah,  that  reminds  me  of  something  I  had  for- 
gotten. I  meant  to  ask  you  how  you  came  to  re- 

206 


ON  THE  GLACIER 

main  in  the  Maloja.  Is  that  too  inquisitive  on  my 
part?  I  can  account  for  the  presence  of  the  other 
Americans  in  the  hotel.  They  belong  to  the  Paris 
colony,  and  are  interested  in  tennis  and  golf.  I 
have  not  seen  you  playing  either  game.  In  fact, 
you  moon  about  in  solitary  grandeur,  like  myself. 
And — oh,  dear !  what  a  string  of  questions ! — is  it 
true  that  you  wanted  to  play  baccarat  with  Mr. 
Bower  for  a  thousand  pounds?  " 

"  It  is  true  that  I  agreed  to  share  a  bank  with 
Mr.  Dunston,  and  the  figure  you  mention  was  sug- 
gested ;  but  I  backed  out  of  the  proposition." 

"Why?" 

"  Because  your  friend,  Mr.  Hare,  thought  he  was 
responsible,  in  a  sense,  having  introduced  me  to 
Dunston;  so  I  let  up  on  the  idea, — just  to  stop  him 
from  feeling  bad  about  it." 

"  You  really  meant  to  play  in  the  first  instance?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Well,  it  was  very  wicked  of  you.  Only  the 
other  day  you  were  telling  me  how  hard  you  had 
to  work  before  you  saved  your  first  thousand 
pounds." 

"  From  that  point  of  view  my  conduct  was  idiotic. 
But  I  would  like  to  carry  the  story  a  little  further, 
Miss  Wynton.  I  was  in  a  mood  that  night  to  op- 
pose Mr.  Bower  for  a  much  more  valuable  stake 
if  the  chance  offered." 

"  It  is  rather  shocking,"  said  Helen. 

"  I  suppose  so.  Of  course,  there  are  prizes  in 
207 


life  that  cannot  be  measured  by  monetary  stand- 
ards." 

He  was  not  looking  at  the  Orlegna  now.  and  the 
girl  by  his  side  well  knew  it.  The  great  revelation 
that  flooded  her  soul  with  light  while  crossing  the 
Forno  came  back  with  renewed  power.  She  did  not 
pretend  to  herself  that  the  words  were  devoid  of  a 
hidden  meaning,  and  her  heart  fluttered  with  subtle 
ecstasy.  But  she  was  proud  and  self  reliant,  so 
proud  that  she  crushed  the  tumult  in  her  breast,  so 
celf  reliant  that  she  was  able  to  give  him  a  timid  smile. 

"  That  deals  with  the  second  head  of  the  indict- 
ment, then,"  she  said  lightly.  "  Now  for  the  first, 
Why  did  you  select  the  Engadine  for  your  holi- 
day?" 

"  If  I  could  tell  you  that,  I  should  know  some- 
thing of  the  occult  impulses  that  govern  men's  lives. 
One  minute  I  was  in  London,  meaning  to  go  north. 
The  next  I  was  hurrying  to  buy  a  ticket  for  St. 
Moritz." 

"  But "  She  meant  to  continue,  "  you  arrived 

here  the  same  day  as  I  did."  Somehow  that  did  not 
sound  quite  the  right  thing  to  say.  Her  tongue 
tripped;  but  she  forced  herself  to  frame  a  sentence. 
"  It  is  odd  that  you,  like  myself,  should  have  hit  upon 
an  out  of  the  way  place  like  Maloja.  The  differ- 
ence is  that  I  was  sent  here,  whereas  you  came  of 
your  own  free  will." 

"  I  guess  you  are  right,"  said  he,  laughing  as 
though  she  had  uttered  an  exquisite  joke.  "  Yes, 

208 


ON  THE  GLACIER 

that  is  just  it.  I  can  imagine  two  young  English 
swallows,  meeting  in  Algeria  in  the  winter,  twit- 
tering explanations  of  the  same  sort." 

"  I  don't  feel  a  bit  like  a  swallow,  and  I  am  sure 
I  can't  twitter,  and  as  for  Algeria,  a  home  of  sun- 
shine— well,  just  look  at  it!"  She  waved  a  hand 
at  the  darkening  panorama  of  hills  and  pine  woods, 
all  etched  in  black  lines  and  masses,  where  rocks 
and  trees  and  houses  broke  the  dead  white  of  the 
snow  mantle. 

They  happened  to  be  crossing  a  bridge  that  spans 
the  Orlegna  before  it  takes  its  first  frantic  plunge 
towards  Italy.  Bower,  who  had  quickened  his  pace, 
took  the  gesture  as  a  signal,  and  sent  an  answering 
flourish.  Helen  stopped.  He  evidently  wished  to 
overtake  them. 

"  More  explanations,"  murmured  Spencer. 

"  But  he  was  mistaken.  I  was  calling  Nature  to 
witness  that  your  simile  was  not  justified." 

"  Tell  you  what,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice,  "  if  this 
storm  has  blown  over  by  the  morning,  meet  me  after 
breakfast,  and  we  will  walk  down  the  valley  to 
Vicosoprano  for  luncheon.  There  is  a  diligence  back 
in  the  afternoon.  We  can  stroll  there  in  three  hours, 
and  I  shall  have  time  to  clear  up  this  swallow- 
proposition." 

"  That  will  be  delightful,  if  the  weather  improves." 

"  It  will.     I  will  compel  it." 

Bower  was  nearing  them  rapidly.  A  constrained 
silence  fell  between  them.  To  end  it,  Helen  cried: 

209 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

"  Well,  are  you  feeling  duly  humbled,  Mr. 
Bower?" 

He  did  not  seem  to  understand  her  meaning.  Ap- 
parently, he  might  have  forgotten  that  Stampa  still 
lived.  Then  he  roused  his  wits  with  an  effort.  "  Not 
humbled,  but  elated,"  he  said.  "  Have  I  not  led 
you  to  feats  of  derring-do?  Why,  the  Wragg 
girls  will  be  green  with  envy  when  they  hear  of  your 
exploits." 

He  swung  round  the  corner  to  the  bridge.  After 
a  smiling  glance  at  Spencer's  impassive  face,  he 
turned  to  Helen.  "  You  have  come  out  of  the  or- 
deal with  flying  colors,"  he  said.  "  That  flower  you 
picked  on  the  way  up  has  not  withered.  Give  it  to 
me  as  a  memento." 

The  words  were  almost  a  challenge.  The  girl 
hesitated. 

"  No,"  she  said.  "  I  must  find  you  some  other 
souvenir." 

"But  I  want  that— if " 

"There  is  no  'if.'  You  forget  that  I  took  it 
from — from  the  boulder  marked  by  a  cross." 

"  I  am  not  superstitious." 

"  Nor  am  I.  Nevertheless,  I  should  not  care  to 
give  you  such  a  symbol." 

She  caught  Bower  and  Spencer  exchanging  a 
strange  look.  These  men  shared  some  secret  that 
they  sedulously  kept  from  her.  Perhaps  the  Ameri- 
can meant  to  enlighten  her  during  their  projected 
walk  to  Vicosoprano. 

210 


ON  THE  GLACIER 

Stampa  and  the  others  approached.  Together 
they  climbed  the  little  hill  leading  to  the  summit  of 
the  pass.  In  the  village  they  said  "  Good  night  "  to 
the  two  guides  and  Karl. 

Helen  promised  laughingly  to  make  the  acquaint- 
ance of  Johann  Klucker's  cat  at  the  first  oppor- 
tunity. She  was  passing  through  a  wicket  that 
protects  the  footpath  across  the  golf  links,  when  she 
heard  Stampa  growl: 

"  Morgen  friih!  " 

"  Ja!  "  snapped  Bower. 

She  smiled  to  herself  at  the  thought  that  things 
were  going  to  happen  to-morrow.  She  was  right. 
But  she  had  not  yet  done  with  the  present  day. 
When  she  entered  the  cozy  and  brilliantly  lighted 
veranda  of  the  hotel,  the  first  person  her  amazed 
eyes  alighted  upon  was  Millicent  Jaques. 


211 


CHAPTER  XI 

WHEREIN  HELEN   LIVES  A  CEOWDED  HOUR 

"  MILLICENT  !  You  here !  "  Helen  breathed  the 
words  in  an  undertone  that  carried  more  than  a  hint 
of  dismay. 

It  was  one  of  those  rare  crises  in  life  when  the 
brain  receives  a  presage  of  evil  without  any  prior 
foundation  of  fact.  Helen  had  every  reason  to  wel- 
come her  friend,  none  to  be  chilled  by  her  unex- 
pected presence.  Among  a  small  circle  of  intimate 
acquaintances  she  counted  Millicent  Jaques  the  best 
and  truest.  They  had  drifted  apart;  but  that  was 
owing  to  Helen's  lack  of  means.  She  was  not  able, 
nor  did  she  aspire,  to  mix  in  the  society  that  hailed 
the  actress  as  a  bright  particular  star.  Yet  it  meant 
much  to  a  girl  earning  her  daily  bread  in  a  heedless 
city  that  she  should  possess  one  friend  of  her  own 
age  and  sex  who  could  speak  of  the  golden  years 
when  they  were  children  together, — the  years  when 


HELEN  LIVES  A  CROWDED  HOUR 

Helen's  father  was  the  prospective  governor  of  an 
Indian  province  as  large  as  France;  when  the  tuft 
hunters  now  gathered  in  Maloja  would  have  fawned 
on  her  mother  in  hope  of  subsequent  recognition. 

Why,  then,  did  Helen  falter  in  her  greeting?  Who 
can  tell?  She  herself  did  not  know,  unless  it  was 
that  Millicent  rose  so  leisurely  from  the  table  at 
which  she  was  drinking  a  belated  cup  of  tea,  and 
came  toward  her  with  a  smile  that  had  no  warmth 
in  it. 

"  So  you  have  returned,"  she  said,  "  and  with  both 
cavaliers?  " 

Helen  was  conscious  of  a  queer  humming  noise 
in  her  head.  She  was  incapable  of  calm  thought. 
She  realized  now  that  the  friend  she  had  left  in  Lon- 
don was  here  in  the  guise  of  a  bitter  enemy.  The 
veranda  was  full  of  people  waiting  for  the  post. 
The  snow  had  banished  them  from  links  and  tennis 
court.  This  August  afternoon  was  dark  as  mid- 
December  at  the  same  hour.  But  the  rendezvous  was 
brilliantly  lighted,  and  the  reappearance  of  the  climb- 
ers, whose  chances  of  safety  had  been  eagerly  de- 
bated since  the  snow  storm  began,  drew  all  eyes. 
Someone  had  whispered  too  that  the  beautiful 
woman  who  arrived  from  St.  Moritz  half  an  hour 
earlier,  who  sat  in  her  furs  and  sipped  her  tea  after 
a  long  conversation  with  a  clerk  in  the  bureau,  was 
none  other  than  Millicent  Jaques,  the  dancer,  one 
of  the  leading  lights  of  English  musical  comedy. 

The  peepers  and  whisperers   little  dreamed  that 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

she  could  be  awaiting  the  party  from  the  Forno. 
Now  that  her  vigil  was  explained,  for  Bower  had 
advanced  with  ready  smile  and  outstretched  hand, 
the  Wraggs  and  Vavasours  and  de  la  Veres — all  the 
little  coterie  of  gossips  and  scandalmongers — were 
drawn  to  the  center  of  the  hall  like  steel  filings  to 
a  magnet. 

Millicent  ignored  Bower.  She  was  young  enough 
and  pretty  enough  to  feel  sure  of  her  ability  to  deal 
with  him  subsequently.  Her  cornflower  blue  eyes 
glittered.  They  held  something  of  the  quiet  menace 
of  a  crevasse.  She  had  traveled  far  for  revenge, 
and  she  did  not  mean  to  forego  it.  Helen,  whose  sec- 
ond impulse  was  to  kiss  her  affectionately,  with  ex- 
cited clamor  of  welcome  and  inquiry,  stood  rooted 
to  the  floor  by  her  friend's  strange  words. 

"  I — I  am  so  surprised "  she  half  stammered 

in  an  agony  of  confused  doubt;  and  that  was  the 
only  lame  phrase  she  could  utter  during  a  few  trying 
seconds. 

Bower  frowned.  He  hated  scenes  between  women. 
With  his  first  glimpse  of  Millicent  he  guessed  her 
errand.  For  Helen's  sake,  in  the  presence  of  that 
rabbit-eared  crowd,  he  would  not  brook  the  un- 
merited flood  of  sarcastic  indignation  which  he  knew 
was  trembling  on  her  lips. 

"  Miss  Wynton  has  had  an  exhausting  day,"  he 
said  coolly.  "  She  must  go  straight  to  her  room, 
and  rest.  You  two  can  meet  and  talk  after  dinner." 
Without  further  preamble,  he  took  Helen's  arm. 


HELEN  LIVES  A  CROWDED  HOUR 

Millicent  barred  the  way.  She  did  not  give  place. 
Again  she  paid  no  heed  to  the  man.  "  I  shall  not 
detain  you  long,"  she  said,  looking  only  at  Helen, 
and  speaking  in  a  low  clear  voice  that  her  stage 
training  rendered  audible  throughout  the  large  hall. 
*'  I  only  wished  to  assure  myself  that  what  I  was 
told  was  true.  I  found  it  hard  to  believe,  even  when 
I  saw  your  name  written  up  in  the  hotel.  Before  I 
go,  let  me  congratulate  you  on  your  conquest — 
and  Mr.  Mark  Bower  on  his,"  she  added,  with  clever 
pretense  of  afterthought. 

Helen  continued  to  stare  at  her  helplessly.  Her 
lips  quivered;  but  they  uttered  no  sound.  It 
was  impossible  to  misunderstand  Millicent's  object. 
She  meant  to  wound  and  insult  in  the  grossest 
way. 

Bower  dropped  Helen's  arm,  and  strode  close  to 
the  woman  who  had  struck  this  shrewd  blow  at  him. 
"  I  give  you  this  one  chance !  "  he  muttered,  while  his 
eyes  blazed  into  hers.  "  Go  to  your  room,  or  sit 
down  somewhere  till  I  am  free.  I  shall  come  to  you, 
and  put  things  straight  that  now  seem  crooked.  You 
are  wrong,  horribly  wrong,  in  your  suspicions.  Wait 
my  explanation,  or  by  all  that  I  hold  sacred,  you 
will  regret  it  to  your  dying  hour ! " 

Millicent  drew  back  a  little.  She  conveyed  the 
suggestion  that  his  nearness  was  offensive  to  her 
nostrils.  And  she  laughed,  with  due  semblance  of 
real  amusement.  "  What !  Has  she  made  a  fool 
of  you  too  ?  "  she  cried  bitingly. 

215 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

Then  Helen  did  exactly  the  thing  she  ought  not  to 
have  done.  She  fainted. 

Spencer,  in  his  own  vivid  phrase,  was  "  looking  for 
trouble  "  the  instant  he  caught  sight  of  the  actress. 
Had  some  Mahatma-devised  magic  lantern  focused 
on  the  screen  of  his  inner  consciousness  a  complete 
narrative  of  the  circumstances  which  conspired  to 
bring  Millicent  Jaques  to  the  Upper  Engadine,  he 
could  not  have  mastered  cause  and  effect  more  fully. 
The  unlucky  letter  he  asked  Mackenzie  to  send  to 
the  Wellington  Theater — the  letter  devised  as  a 
probe  into  Bower's  motives,  but  which  was  now  cru- 
elly searching  its  author's  heart — had  undoubtedly 
supplied  to  a  slighted  woman  the  clew  to  her  rival's 
identity.  Better  posted  than  Bower  in  the  true  his- 
tory of  Helen's  visit  to  Switzerland,  he  did  not  fail 
to  catch  the  most  significant  word  in  Millicent's 
scornful  greeting. 

"  And  with  both  cavaliers ! " 

In  all  probability,  she  knew  the  whole  ridiculous 
story,  reading  into  it  the  meaning  lent  by  jealous 
spleen,  and  no  more  to  be  convinced  of  error  than 
the  Forno  glacier  could  be  made  to  flow  backward. 

But  if  his  soul  was  vexed  by  a  sense  of  bygone 
folly,  his  brain  was  cool  and  alert.  He  saw  Helen 
sway  slightly.  He  caught  her  before  she  collapsed 
where  she  stood.  He  gathered  her  tenderly  in  his 
arms.  She  might  have  been  a  tired  child,  fallen 
asleep  too  soon.  Her  limp  head  rested  on  his  shoul- 
der. Through  the  meshes  of  her  blue  veil  he  could 

216 


'No,"  said  Spencer,  "ring  for  the  elevator." 


Page  217 


HELEN  LIVES  A  CROWDED  HOUR     • 

see  the  sudden  pallor  of  her  cheeks.  The  tint  of  the 
silk  added  to  the  lifelessness  of  her  aspect.  Just 
then  Spencer's  heart  was  sore  within  him,  and  he 
was  an  awkward  man  to  oppose. 

George  de  Courcy  Vavasour  happened  to  crane 
his  neck  nearer  at  the  wrong  moment.  The  Ameri- 
can sent  him  flying  with  a  vigorous  elbow  thrust. 
He  shoved  Bower  aside  with  scant  ceremony.  Milli- 
cent  Jaques  met  a  steely  glance  that  quelled  the 
vengeful  sparkle  in  her  own  eyes,  and  caused  her 
to  move  quickly,  lest,  perchance,  this  pale-faced 
American  should  trample  on  her.  Before  Bower 
could  recover  his  balance,  for  his  hobnails  caused 
him  to  slip  on  the  tiled  floor,  Spencer  was  halfway 
across  the  inner  hall,  and  approaching  the  elevator. 

An  official  of  the  hotel  hastened  forward  with 
ready  proffer  of  help.  "  This  way,"  he  said  sym- 
pathetically. "  The  lady  was  overcome  by  the  heat 
after  so  many  hours  in  the  intense  cold.  It  often 
occurs.  She  will  recover  soon.  Bring  her  to  a 
chair  in  the  office." 

But  Spencer  was  not  willing  that  Helen's  first 
wondering  glance  should  rest  on  strangers,  or  that, 
when  able  to  walk  to  her  own  apartments,  she  should 
be  compelled  to  pass  through  the  ranks  of  gapers 
in  the  lounge. 

"No,"  he  said.  "Ring  for  the  elevator.  This 
lady  must  be  taken  to  her  room, — No.  80,  I  believe, — 
then  the  manageress  and  a  chambermaid  can  attend 
to  her.  Quick !  the  elevator !  " 

217 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

Bower  turned  on  Millicent  like  an  angry  bull. 
"  You  have  chosen  your  own  method,"  he  growled. 
"  Very  well.  You  shall  pay  for  it." 

Her  venom  was  such  that  she  was  by  no  means 
disturbed  by  his  threat.  "  The  other  man — the 
American  who  brought  her  here — seems  to  have 
bested  you  throughout,"  she  taunted  him. 

He  drew  himself  up  with  a  certain  dignity.  He 
was  aware  that  every  tongue  in  the  place  was  stilled, 
that  every  ear  was  tuned  to  catch  each  note  of  this 
fantastic  quartet, — a  sonata  appassionata  in  which 
vibrated  the  souls  of  men  and  women.  He  looked 
from  Millicent's  pallid  face  to  the  faces  of  the  lis- 
teners, some  of  whom  made  pretense  of  polite  in- 
difference, while  others  did  not  scruple  to  exhibit 
their  eager  delight.  If  nothing  better,  the  episode 
would  provide  an  abundance  of  spicy  gossip  during 
the  enforced  idleness  caused  by  the  weather. 

"  The  lady  whom  you  are  endeavoring  to  malign, 
will,  I  hope,  do  me  the  honor  of  becoming  my  wife," 
he  said.  "  That  being  so,  she  is  beyond  the  reach 
of  the  slanderous  malice  of  an  ex-chorus  girl." 

He  spoke  slowly,  with  the  air  of  a  man  who 
weighed  his  words.  A  thrill  that  could  be  felt  ran 
through  his  intent  audience.  Mark  Bower,  the  mil- 
lionaire, the  financial  genius  who  dominated  more 
than  one  powerful  group  in  the  city,  who  controlled 
a  ring  of  theaters  in  London  and  the  provinces,  who 
had  declined  a  knighthood,  and  would  surely  be  cre- 
ated a  peer  with  the  next  change  of  government, — 


HELEN  LIVES  A  CROWDED  HOUR 

that  he  should  openly  declare  himself  a  suitor  for 
the  hand  of  a  penniless  girl  was  a  sensation  with  a 
vengeance.  His  description  of  Millicent  as  an  ex- 
chorus  girl  offered  another  bonne  bouche  to  the 
crowd.  She  would  never  again  skip  airily  behind 
the  footlights  of  the  Wellington,  or  any  other  im- 
portant theater  in  England.  So  far  as  she  was 
concerned,  the  musical  comedy  candle  that  succeeded 
to  the  sacred  lamp  of  West  End  burlesque  was 
snuffed  out. 

Millicent  was  actress  enough  not  to  flinch  from 
the  goad.  "  A  charming  and  proper  sentiment," 
she  cried  with  well  simulated  flippancy.  "  The  mar- 
riage of  Mr.  Mark  Bower  will  be  quite  a  fashion- 
able event,  provided  always  that  he  secures  the  as- 
sent of  the  American  gentleman  who  is  paying  his 
future  wife's  expenses  during  her  present  holiday." 

Now,  so  curiously  constituted  is  human  nature, 
or  the  shallow  worldliness  that  passes  current  for  it 
among  the  homeless  gadabouts  who  pose  as  British 
society  on  the  Continent,  that  already  the  current  of 
opinion  in  the  hotel  was  setting  steadily  in  Helen's  fa- 
vor. The  remarkable  change  dated  from  the  moment 
of  Bower's  public  announcement  of  his  matrimonial 
plans.  Many  of  those  present  were  regretting  a  lost 
opportunity.  It  was  obvious  to  the  meanest  intel- 
ligence— and  the  worn  phrase  took  a  new  vitality 
when  applied  to  some  among  the  company — that  any 
kindness  shown  to  Helen  during  the  preceding  fort- 
night would  be  repaid  a  hundredfold  when  she  be- 

219 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

came  Mrs.  Mark  Bower.  Again,  not  even  the  bit- 
terest of  her  critics  could  allege  that  she  was  flirt- 
ing with  the  quiet  mannered  American  who  had  just 
carried  her  off  like  a  new  Paris.  She  had  lived  in 
the  same  hotel  for  a  whole  week  without  speaking 
a  word  to  him.  If  anything,  she  had  shown  favor 
only  to  Bower,  and  that  in  a  way  so  decorous  and 
discreet  that  more  than  one  woman  there  was  amazed 
by  her  careless  handling  of  a  promising  situation. 
Just  give  one  of  them  the  chance  of  securing  such 
a  prize  fish  as  this  stalwart  millionaire !  Well,  at 
least  he  should  not  miss  the  hook  for  lack  of  a  bait. 

Oddly  enough,  the  Rev.  Philip  Hare  gave  voice  to 
a  general  sentiment  when  he  interfered  in  the  duel. 
He,  like  others,  was  waiting  for  his  letters.  He 
saw  Helen  come  in,  and  was  hurrying  to  offer  his 
congratulations  on  her  escape  from  the  storm,  when 
the  appearance  of  Millicent  prevented  him  from 
speaking  at  once.  The  little  man  was  hot  with 
vexation  at  the  scene  that  followed.  He  liked  Helen ; 
he  was  unutterably  shocked  by  Millicent's  attack ;  and 
he  resented  the  unfair  and  untrue  construction  that 
must  be  placed  on  her  latest  innuendo. 

"  As  one  who  has  made  Miss  Wynton's  acquaint- 
ance in  this  hotel,"  he  broke  in  vehemently,  "  I  must 
protest  most  emphatically  against  the  outrageous 
statement  we  have  just  heard.  If  I  may  say  it,  it 
is  unworthy  of  the  lady  who  is  responsible  for  it. 
I  know  nothing  of  your  quarrel,  nor  do  I  wish  to 
figure  in  it ;  but  I  do  declare,  on  my  honor  as  a 

220 


HELEN  LIVES  A  CROWDED  HOUR 

clergyman  of  the  Church  of  England,  that  Miss 
Wynton's  conduct  in  Maloja  has  in  no  way  lent 
itself  to  the  inference  one  is  compelled  to  draw  from 
the  words  used." 

"  Thank  you,  Mr.  Hare,"  said  Bower  quietly,  and 
a  subdued  murmur  of  applause  buzzed  through  the 
gathering. 

There  is  a  legend  in  Zermatt  that  Saint  Theodule, 
patron  of  the  Valais,  wishing  to  reach  Rome  in  a 
hurry,  sought  demoniac  aid  to  surmount  the  im- 
passable barrier  of  the  Alps.  Opening  his  window, 
he  saw  three  devils  dancing  merrily  on  the  house- 
tops. He  called  them.  "  Which  of  you  is  the 
speediest  ?  "  he  asked.  "  I,"  said  one,  "  I  am  swift 
as  the  wind." — "  Bah !  "  cried  the  second,  "  I  can 
fly  like  a  bullet."—"  These  two  talk  idly,"  said  the 
third.  "  I  am  quick  as  the  thought  of  a  woman." 
The  worthy  prelate  chose  the  third.  The  hour  be- 
ing late,  he  bargained  that  he  should  be  carried  to 
Rome  and  back  before  cockcrow,  the  price  for  the 
service  to  be  his  saintly  soul.  The  imp  flew  well, 
and  returned  to  the  valley  of  the  Rhone  long  ere 
dawn.  Joyous  at  his  gain,  he  was-  about  to  bound 
over  the  wall  of  the  episcopal  city  of  Sion,  when  St. 
Theodule  roared  lustily,  "  Coq,  chante!  Que  tu 
cliantes!  Ou  que  jamais  plus  tune  chant es!  "  Every 
cock  in  Sion  awoke  at  his  voice,  and  raised  such  a 
din  that  the  devil  dropped  a  bell  given  to  his  saint- 
ship  by  the  Holy  Father,  and  Saint  Theodule  was 
snug  and  safe  inside  it. 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

The  prelate  was  right  in  his  choice  of  the  third. 
The  thoughts  of  two  women  took  wings  instantly. 
Mrs.  de  la  Vere,  throwing  away  a  half-smoked 
cigarette,  hurried  out  of  the  veranda.  Millicent 
Jaques,  whose  carriage  was  ready  for  the  long  drive 
to  St.  Moritz,  decided  to  remain  in  Maloja. 

The  outer  door  opened,  with  a  rush  of  cold  air 
and  a  whirl  of  snow.  People  expected  the  postman; 
but  Stampa  entered, — only  Stampa,  the  broken  sur- 
vivor of  the  little  band  of  guides  who  conquered  the 
Matterhorn.  He  doffed  his  Alpine  hat,  and  seemed 
to  be  embarrassed  by  the  unusually  large  throng  as- 
sembled in  the  passageway.  Bower  saw  him,  and 
strode  away  into  the  dimly  lighted  foyer. 

"  Pardon,  'sieurs  et  'dames,"  said  Stampa,  ad- 
vancing with  his  uneven  gait,  a  venerable  and  pa- 
thetic figure,  the  wreck  of  a  giant,  a  man  who  had 
aged  years  in  a  single  day.  He  went  to  the  bureau, 
and  asked  permission  to  seek  Herr  Spencer  in  his 
room. 

Helen  was  struggling  back  to  consciousness  when 
Mrs.  de  la  Vere  joined  the  kindly  women  who  were 
loosening  her  bodice  and  chafing  her  hands  and 
feet. 

The  first  words  the  girl  heard  were  in  English. 
A  woman's  voice  was  saying  cheerfully,  "  There,  my 
dear ! "  a  simple  formula  of  marvelous  recuperative 
effect, — "  there  now !  You  are  all  right  again.  But 
your  room  is  bitterly  cold.  Won't  you  come  into 


HELEN  LIVES  A  CROWDED  HOUR 

mine?  It  is  quite  near,  and  my  stove  has  been  alight 
all  day." 

Helen,  opening  her  eyes,  found  herself  gazing  up 
at  Mrs.  de  la  Vere.  Real  sympathy  ranks  high 
among  good  deeds.  The  girl's  lips  quivered.  Re- 
turning life  brought  with  it  tears. 

The  woman  whom  she  had  regarded  as  a  social 
butterfly  sat  beside  her  on  the  bed  and  placed  a 
friendly  arm  round  her  neck.  "  Don't  cry,  you  dear 
thing,"  she  cooed  gently.  "  There  is  nothing  to  cry 
about.  You  are  a  bit  overwrought,  of  course;  but, 
as  it  happens,  you  have  scored  heavily  off  all  of  us — 
and  not  least  off  the  creature  who  upset  you.  Now, 
do  try  and  come  with  me.  Here  are  your  slippers. 
The  corridor  is  empty.  It  is  only  a  few  steps." 

"Come  with  you?" 

"  Yes,  you  are  shivering  with  the  cold,  and  my 
room  is  gloriously  warm." 

"But " 

"  There  are  no  buts.  Marie  will  bring  a  basin 
of  nice  hot  soup.  While  3^ou  are  drinking  it  she  will 
set  your  stove  going.  I  know  exactly  how  you  feel. 
The  whole  world  is  topsyturvy,  and  you  don't  think 
there  is  a  smile  in  your  make-up,  as  that  dear  Ameri- 
can man  who  carried  you  here  would  say." 

Helen  recovered  her  senses  with  exceeding  rapid- 
ity. Mrs.  de  la  Vere  was  already  leading  her  to  the 
door. 

"  What !     Mr.  Spencer— did  he " 

"  He  did.  Come,  now.  I  shall  tell  you  all  the 
223 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

trying  details  when  you  are  seated  in  my  easy  chair, 
and  wrapped  in  the  duckiest  Shetland  shawl  that  a 
red  headed  laird  sent  me  last  Christmas.  Excellent ! 
Of  course  you  can  walk!  Isn't  every  other  woman 
in  the  hotel  well  aware  how  you  got  that  lovely 
figure?  Yes,  in  that  chair.  And  here  is  the  shawl. 
It's  just  like  being  cuddled  by  a  woolly  lamb." 

Mrs.  de  la  Vere  turned  the  keys  in  two  doors. 
*'  Reggie  always  knocks,"  she  explained ;  "  but  some 
inquisitive  cat  may  follow  me  here,  and  I  am  sure 
you  don't  wish  to  be  gushed  over  now,  after  every- 
body has  been  so  horrid  to  you." 

"  You  were  not,"  said  Helen  gratefully. 

"  Yes,  I  was,  in  a  way.  I  hate  most  women ;  but 
I  admired  you  ever  since  you  took  the  conceit  out 
of  that  giddy  husband  of  mine.  If  I  didn't  speak, 
it  arose  from  sheer  laziness — a  sort  of  drifting  with 
the  stream,  in  tow  of  the  General  and  that  old  mis- 
chief maker,  Mrs.  Vavasour.  I'm  sorry,  and  you 
will  be  quite  justified  to-morrow  morning  in  sailing 
past  me  and  the  rest  as  though  we  were  beetles." 

Then  Helen  laughed,  feebly,  it  is  true,  but  with 
a  genuine  mirth  that  chased  away  momentarily  the 
evergrowing  memory  of  Millicent's  injustice.  "  Why 
do  you  mention  beetles  ?  "  she  asked.  "  It  is  part 
of  my  every  day  work  to  classify  them." 

Mrs.  de  la  Vere  was  puzzled.  "  I  believe  you  have 
said  something  very  cutting,"  she  cried.  "  If  you 
did,  we  deserve  it.  But  please  tell  me  the  joke.  I 
shall  hand  it  on  to  the  Wraggs." 


HELEN  LIVES  A  CROWDED  HOUR 

"  There  is  no  joke.  I  act  as  secretary  to  a  Ger- 
man professor  of  entomology — insects,  you  know; 
he  makes  beetles  a  specialty." 

The  other  woman's  eye  danced.  "  It  is  all  very 
funny,"  she  said,  "  and  I  still  have  my  doubts.  Never 
mind.  I  want  to  atone  for  earlier  shortcomings.  I 
felt  that  someone  really  ought  to  tell  you  what 
took  place  in  the  outer  foyer  after  you  sank  grace- 
fully out  of  the  act.  Mr.  Bower " 

A  tap  on  the  door  leading  into  the  corridor  in- 
terrupted her.  It  was  Marie,  armed  with  chicken 
broth  and  dry  toast.  Mrs.  de  la  Vere,  who  seemed 
to  be  filled  with  an  honest  anxiety  to  place  Helen  at 
her  ease,  persuaded  her  to  begin  sipping  the  com- 
pound. 

"Well,  what  did  Mr.  Bower  do?"  demanded 
Helen,  who  was  wondering  now  why  she  had  fainted. 
The  accusation  brought  against  her  by  Millicent 
Jaques  was  untrue.  Why  should  it  disturb  her  so 
gravely?  It  did  not  occur  to  her  that  the  true 
cause  was  physical, — a  too  sudden  change  of  tem- 
perature. 

"  He  sat  on  that  young  woman  from  the  Welling- 
ton Theater  very  severely,  I  assure  you.  From  her 
manner  we  all  imagined  she  had  some  sort  of  claim 
on  him;  but  if  she  was  laboring  under  any  such  de- 
lusion he  cured  her.  He  said — Are  you  really  strong 
enough  to  stand  a  shock?" 

"  Twenty  shocks.     I  can't  think  how  I  could  have 

been  so  silly " 

225 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

"  Nerves,  my  dear.  We  all  have  'em.  Sometimes, 
if  I  didn't  smoke  I  should  scream.  No  woman  really 
likes  to  see  her  husband  flirting  openly  with  her 
friends.  I'm  no  saint;  but  my  wickedness  is  de- 
fensive. Now,  are  you  ready?  " 

"  Quite  ready." 

"  Mr.  Bower  told  us,  tout  le  monde,  you  know, 
that  he  meant  to  marry  you." 

"Oh!"  said  Helen. 

During  an  appreciable  pause  neither  woman  spoke. 
Helen  was  not  sure  whether  she  wanted  to  laugh 
or  be  angry.  Mrs.  de  la  Vere  eyed  her  curiously. 
The  girl's  face  was  yet  white  and  drawn.  It  was 
impossible  to  guess  how  the  great  news  affected  her. 
The  de  la  Veres  were  poor  on  two  thousand  a 
year.  What  did  it  feel  like  to  be  the  prospective 
bride  of  a  millionaire,  especially  when  you  were — 
what  was  it? — secretary  to  a  man  who  collected 
beetles ! 

"  Did  Mr.  Bower  assign  any  reason  for  making 
that  remarkable  statement  ?  "  said  Helen  at  last. 

"  He  explained  that  the  fact — I  suppose  it  is  a 
fact — would  safeguard  you  from  the  malice  of  an 
ex-coryphee.  Indeed,  he  put  it  more  brutally.  He 
spoke  of  the  '  slanderous  malice  of  an  ex-chorus 
girl.'  The  English  term  sounds  a  trifle  harsher  than 
the  French,  don't  you  think?" 

It  began  to  dawn  on  Helen  that  Mrs.  de  la  Vere's 
friendliness  might  have  a  somewhat  sordid  founda- 
tion. Was  she  tending  her  merely  to  secure  the 

226 


HELEN  LIVES  A  CROWDED  HOUR 

freshest  details  of  an  affair  that  must  be  causing 
many  tongues  to  wag? 

"  I  am  acquiring  new  theories  of  life  since  I  came 
to  Malo j  a,"  she  said  slowly.  "  One  would  have 
thought  that  I  might  be  the  first  person  to  be  made 
aware  of  Mr.  Bower's  intentions." 

"  Oh,  this  is  really  too  funny.  May  I  light  a 
cigarette?  " 

"  Please  do.  And  now  it  is  my  turn  to  ask  you 
to  point  out  the  exquisite  humor  of  the  situation." 

"  Don't  be  vexed  with  me,  child.  You  needn't  say 
another  word  if  you  don't  wish  it;  but  surely  you 
are  not  annoyed  because  I  have  given  you  the  tip 
as  to  what  took  place  in  the  hall?  " 

"  You  have  been  exceedingly  good " 

"  No.  I  haven't.  I  was  just  as  nasty  as  the 
others,  and  I  sneered  like  the  rest  when  Bower  showed 
up  a  fortnight  since.  I  was  wrong,  and  I  apologize 
for  it.  Regard  me  as  in  sackcloth  and  ashes.  But 
my  heart  went  out  to  you  when  you  dropped  like  a 
log  among  all  those  staring  people.  I've — I've  done 
it  myself,  and  my  case  was  worse  than  yours.  Once 
in  my  life  I  loved  a  man,  and  I  came  home  one  day 
from  the  hunting  field  to  read  a  telegram  from  the 
War  Office.  He  was  '  missing,'  it  said — missing — in 
a  rear-guard  action  in  Tirah.  Do  you  know  what 
that  means  ? " 

A  cloud  of  smoke  hid  her  face;  but  it  could  not 
stifle  the  sob  in  her  voice.  There  was  a  knock  at 
the  door. 

227 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

"  Are  you  there,  Edith  ?  "  demanded  Reginald  de 
la  Vere. 

"  Yes.     Go  away  !     I'm  busy." 

"  But " 

"  Go  away,  I  tell  you !  " 

Then  she  jerked  a  scornful  hand  toward  the  door. 
"  Six  months  later  I  was  married — men  who  are 
missed  among  the  Afridis  don't  come  back,"  she  said. 

"  I'm  more  sorry  than  I  can  put  into  words !  " 
murmured  Helen. 

"  For  goodness'  sake  don't  let  us  grow  sentimental. 
Shall  we  return  to  our  sheep?  Don't  be  afraid  that 
I  shall  pasture  the  goats  in  the  hall  on  your  confi- 
dences. Hasn't  Bower  asked  you?" 

"  No." 

"  Then  his  action  was  all  the  more  generous.  He 
meant  to  squelch  that  friend  of  yours — is  she  your 
friend?" 

"  She  used  to  be,"  said  Helen  sadly. 

"  And  what  do  you  mean  to  do  about  it  ?  You 
will  marry  Bower,  of  course?" 

Helen's  heart  fluttered.  Her  color  rose  in  a  sud- 
den wave.  "  I — I  don't  think  so,"  she  breathed. 

"Don't  you?  Well,  I  like  you  the  better  for 
saying  so.  I  can  picture  myself  putting  the  same 
questions  to  one  of  the  Wragg  girls — to  both  of  'em, 
in  fact.  I  am  older  than  you,  and  very  much  wiser 
in  some  of  the  world's  ways,  and  my  advice  is, 
Don't  marry  any  man  unless  you  are  sure  you  love 
him.  If  you  do  love  him,  you  may  keep  him,  for 

228 


HELEN  LIVES  A  CROWDED  HOUR 

men  are  patient  creatures.  But  that  is  for  you  to 
decide.  I  can't  help  you  there.  I  am  mainly  con- 
cerned, for  the  moment,  in  helping  you  over  the 
ice  during  the  next  day  or  two — if  you  will  let  me, 
that  is.  Probably  you  have  determined  not  to  ap- 
pear in  public  to-night.  That  will  be  a  mistake. 
Wear  your  prettiest  frock,  and  dine  with  Reggie 
and  me.  We  shall  invite  Mr.  Bower  to  join  us,  and 
two  other  people — some  man  and  woman  I  can  de- 
pend on  to  keep  things  going.  If  we  laugh  and 
kick  up  no  end  of  a  noise,  it  will  not  only  worry 
the  remainder  of  the  crowd,  but  you  score  heavily 
off  the  theatrical  lady.  See?" 

"  I  can  see  that  you  are  acting  the  part  of  the 
good  Samaritan,"  cried  Helen. 

"  Oh,  dear,  no — nothing  so  antiquated.  Look  at 
your  future  position — the  avowed  wife  of  a  million- 
aire. Eh,  what?  as  Georgie  says." 

"  But  I  am  not  anything  of  the  kind.  Mr. 
Bower " 

"  Mr.  Bower  is  all  right.  He  has  the  recognized 
history  of  the  man  who  makes  a  good  husband,  and 
you  can't  help  liking  him,  unless — unless  there  is 
another  man." 

"  There,  at  least,  I  am "  Helen  hesitated. 

Something  gripped  her  heart  and  checked  the  mod- 
est protestation  of  her  freedom. 

Mrs.  de  la  Vere  laughed.  "  If  you  are  not  sure, 
you  are  safe,"  she  said,  with  a  hard  ring  in  her 
utterance  that  belied  her  easygoing  philosophy. 

229 


"  Really,  you  bring  me  back  a  lost  decade.  Now, 
Helen — may  I  call  you  Helen  ?  " 

"  Yes,  indeed." 

"  Well,  then,  don't  forget  that  my  name  is  Edith. 
You  have  just  half  an  hour  to  dress.  I  need  every 
second  of  the  time ;  so  off  you  run  to  your  room.  As 
I  hear  Reggie  flinging  his  boots  around  next  door, 
I  shall  hurry  him  and  arrange  about  the  table.  Call 
for  me.  We  must  go  to  the  foyer  together.  Now 
kiss  me,  there's  a  dear." 

Helen  was  wrestling  with  her  refractory  tresses — 
for  the  coiffure  that  suits  glaciers  and  Tarn  o'  Shan- 
ters  is  not  permissible  in  evening  dress — when  a  serv- 
ant brought  her  a  note. 

"  DEAB  'Miss  WYJITON,"  it  ran, — "  If  you  are  able  to  come 
down  to  dinner,  why  not  dine  with  me?  Sincerely, 

"  CHABLES  K.  SPENCER." 

She  blushed  and  laughed  a  little.  "  I  am  in  de- 
mand," she  thought,  flashing  a  pardonable  glance 
at  her  own  face  in  the  mirror.  She  read  the  brief 
invitation  again.  Spencer  had  a  trick  of  printing 
the  K  in  his  signature.  It  caught  her  fancy.  It 
suggested  strength,  trustworthiness.  She  did  not 
know  then  that  one  of  the  shrewdest  scoundrels  in 
the  Western  States  had  already  commented  on  cer- 
tain qualities  betokened  by  that  letter  in  Spencer's 
name. 

"  I  cannot  refuse,"  she  murmured.  "  To  be  can- 
did, I  don't  want  to  refuse.  What  shall  I  do?  " 

230 


HELEN  LIVES  A  CROWDED  HOUR 

Bidding  the  servant  wait,  she  twisted  her  hair  into 
a  coil,  threw  a  wrap  round  her  shoulders,  and  tapped 
on  Mrs.  de  la  Vere's  door. 

"  Entrez!  "  cried  that  lady. 

"  I  am  in  a  bit  of  difficulty,"  said  Helen.  "  Mr. 
Spencer  wishes  me  to  dine  with  him.  Would 
you " 

"  Certainly.  I'll  ask  him  to  join  us.  Reggie  will 
see  him  too.  Really,  Helen,  this  is  amusing.  I  am 
beginning  to  suspect  you." 

So  Spencer  received  a  surprising  answer.  He 
read  it  without  any  sign  of  the  amusement  Mrs. 
de  la  Vere  extracted  from  the  situation,  for  Helen 
took  care  to  recite  the  whole  arrangement. 

"  I'm  going  through  with  this,"  he  growled  sav- 
agely, "  even  if  I  have  to  drink  Bower's  health — 
damn  him ! " 


231 


CHAPTER  XII 


THE   ALLIES 

SELDOM,  if  ever,  has  a  more  strangely  assorted 
party  met  at  dinner  than  that  which  gathered  in 
the  Hotel  Kursaal  under  the  social  wing  of  Mrs.  de 
la  Vere.  Her  husband,  while  being  coached  in  es- 
sentials, was  the  first  to  discover  its  incongruities. 

"  Where  Miss  Wynton  is  concerned,  you  are 
warned  off,"  his  wife  told  him  dryly.  "  You  must 
console  yourself  with  Mrs.  Badminton-Smythe.  She 
will  stand  anything  to  cut  out  a  younger  and  pret- 
tier woman." 

"  Where  do  you  come  in,  Edie  ? "  said  he ;  for 
Mrs.  de  la  Vere's  delicate  aristocratic  beauty  seemed 
to  be  the  natural  complement  of  her  sporting  style, 
and  to-night  there  was  a  wistful  charm  in  her 
face  that  the  lively  Reginald  had  not  seen  there 
before. 

She  turned  aside,  busying  herself  with  her  toilet. 

232 


THE  ALLIES 

"  I  don't  come  in.     I  went  out  five  years  ago,"  she 
cried,  with  a  mocking  laugh. 

"  Do  you  know,"  he  muttered,  "  I  often  wonder 
why  the  deuce  you  an'  I  got  married." 

"  Because,  sweet  Reginald,  we  were  made  for  each 
other  by  a  wise  Providence.  What  other  woman 
of  your  acquaintance  would  tolerate  you — as  a  hus- 
band? " 

"  Oh,  dash  it  all !  if  it  comes  to  that " 

"  For  goodness'  sake,  don't  fuss,  or  begin  to  think. 
Run  away  and  interview  the  head  waiter.  Then 
you  are  to  buttonhole  Bower  and  the  American.  I 
am  just  sending  a  chit  to  the  Badminton-Smythes." 

"Who  is  my  partner?" 

"  Lulu,  of  course." 

De  la  Vere  was  puzzled,  and  looked  it.  "  I  sup- 
pose it  is  all  right,"  he  growled.  "  Still,  I  canjt  help 
thinking  you've  got  something  up  your  sleeve,  Edie." 

She  stamped  a  very  pretty  foot  angrily.  "  Do 
as  I  tell  you!  Didn't  you  hear  what  Bower  said? 
He  will  be  everlastingly  obliged  to  us  for  coming 
to  the  rescue  in  this  fashion.  Next  time  you  have 
a  flutter  in  the  city,  his  friendship  may  be  useful." 

"  By  gad ! "  cried  Reginald,  beginning,  as  he  fan- 
cied, to  see  light,  "  something  seems  to  have  bitten 
you  this  evening.  Tell  you  what — Lulu  is  a  non- 
runner.  Get  Bower  to  put  you  on  to  a  soft  thing 
in  Africans,  an'  you  an'  I  will  have  a  second  honey- 
moon in  Madeira  next  winter.  Honor  bright!  I 
mean  it." 

233 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

She  seized  a  silver  mounted  brush  from  the  dress- 
ing table  with  the  obvious  intent  of  speeding  his  de- 
parture. He  dodged  out,  and  strolled  down  the 
corridor. 

"  Never  saw  Edie  in  that  sort  of  tantrum  before," 
he  said  to  himself.  "  If  she  only  knew  how  sick  I 
was  of  all  this  jolly  rot,  p'r'aps  we'd  run  better  in 
double  harness." 

So  it  came  to  pass,  when  the  company  assembled 
in  the  great  dining  room,  that  Bower  sat  on  Mrs. 
de  la  Vere's  left,  and  Spencer  on  her  right.  Beyond 
them,  respectively,  were  Lulu  Badminton-Smythe 
and  her  husband,  and  between  these  latter  were  de 
la  Vere  and  Helen.  Thus,  the  girl  was  separated 
from  the  two  men  whom  her  shrewd  eyed  hostess 
had  classed  as  rivals,  while  the  round  table  made 
possible  a  general  conversation. 

The  talk  could  hardly  fail  to  turn  on  the  day's 
adventures.  Spencer,  who  had  never  before  in  his 
life  thrust  himself  forward  in  a  social  gathering,  did 
so  now  with  fixed  purpose.  He  meant  to  eclipse 
Bower  in  a  territory  where  that  polished  man  of  the 
world  was  accustomed  to  reign  unchallenged.  But 
he  had  the  wisdom  to  wait.  He  guessed,  not  without 
good  cause,  that  more  than  one  late  arrival  would 
pause  beside  their  table  and  make  polite  inquiries 
as  to  the  climbers'  well  being.  These  interruptions 
were  fatal  to  Bower's  well  balanced  periods.  The 
journey  to  the  hut,  therefore,  was  dealt  with  jerkily. 

When  Spencer  took  up  the  thread,  he  caught  and 
234 


THE  ALLIES 

held  the  attention  of  his  hearers.  In  this  he  was 
helped  considerably  by  his  quaint  idioms.  To  Eng- 
lish ears,  American  expressions  are  always  amus- 
ing. Spencer,  of  course,  could  speak  quite  as  cor- 
rect English  as  anyone  present;  but  he  realized  that 
in  this  instance  a  certain  amount  of  picturesque  ex- 
aggeration would  lend  itself  to  humor.  His  quick 
ear  too  had  missed  none  of  the  queer  mixture  of 
prayers  and  objurgations  with  which  Karl  and  the 
two  guides  hailed  every  incident.  His  selections  set 
them  all  in  a  roar.  In  fact,  they  were  the  liveliest 
party  in  the  room.  Many  an  eye  was  drawn  by 
a  merriment  that  offered  such  striking  contrast  to 
the  dramatic  episode  in  the  outer  hall. 

"  The  one  person  missing  from  that  crowd  is  the 
stage  lady,"  was  Miss  Gladys  Wragg's  caustic  com- 
ment, when  Badminton-Smythe  evoked  a  fresh  out- 
burst by  protesting  that  he  forgot  to  eat  his  fish 
owing  to  Spencer's  beastly  funny  yarn. 

And  Miss  Wragg's  criticism  was  justified.  It  only 
needed  Millicent's  presence  to  add  a  wizard's  touch 
to  the  amazement  with  which  Mrs.  Vavasour  and 
others  of  her  kind  regarded  the  defection  of  the  de 
la  Veres  and  the  Badminton-Smythes.  But  Millij 
cent  was  dining  in  her  own  room.  The  last  thing 
she  dreamed  of  was  that  Helen  would  face  the  other 
residents  in  the  hotel  after  the  ordeal  she  had  gone 
through  an  hour  earlier.  She  half  expected  that 
Bower  would  endeavor  to  meet  her  privately  while 
dinner  was  being  served.  She  was  ready  for  him. 

235 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

She  prepared  a  number  of  sarcastic  little  speeches, 
each  with  a  subtle  venom  of  its  own,  and  even  re- 
hearsed a  pose  or  two  with  a  view  toward  scenic 
effect.  But  she  had  neither  taken  Bower's  measure 
nor  counted  on  Mrs.  de  la  Vere's  superior  strategy. 
All  that  happened  was  that  she  ate  a  lukewarm  meal, 
and  was  left  to  wonder  at  her  onetime  admirer's 
boldness  in  accepting  a  situation  that  many  a  daring 
man  would  have  striven  to  evade. 

After  dinner  it  was  the  custom  of  the  habitues 
to  break  up  into  small  groups  and  arrange  the 
night's  amusement.  Dancing  claimed  the  younger 
element,  while  card  games  had  their  devotees.  Mrs. 
de  la  Vere  danced  invariably;  but  to-night  she  de- 
voted herself  to  Helen.  She  was  under  no  illusions. 
Bower  and  Spencer  were  engaged  in  a  quiet  duel, 
and  the  victor  meant  to  monopolize  the  girl  for  the 
remainder  of  the  evening.  That  was  preventable. 
They  could  fight  their  battle  on  some  other  occasion. 
At  present  there  was  one  thing  of  vital  importance, 
— the  unpleasant  impression  created  by  the  actress's 
bitter  attack  must  be  dissipated,  and  Mrs.  de  la 
Vere,  secretly  marveling  at  her  own  enthusiasm, 
aimed  at  the  achievement. 

"  Don't  be  drawn  away  from  me  on  any  pretext," 
she  whispered,  linking  her  arm  through  Helen's  as 
they  passed  out  into  the  foyer.  "  And  be  gracious 
to  everybody,  even  to  those  who  have  been  most 
cattish." 

Helen  was  far  too  excited  and  grateful  to  har- 

236 


THE  ALLIES 

bor  animosity.  Moreover,  she  dreaded  the  chance 
of  being  left  alone  with  Bower.  As  he  had  already 
declared  his  intentions  publicly,  she  was  sure  he 
would  seize  the  first  opportunity  to  ask  her  to  marry 
him.  And  what  would  be  her  answer?  She  hardly 
knew.  She  must  have  time  to  think.  She  must 
search  her  own  heart.  She  almost  flinched  from  the 
succeeding  thought, — was  it  that  her  soul  had  found 
another  mate?  If  that  was  so,  she  must  refuse 
Bower,  though  the  man  she  was  learning  to  love 
might  pass  out  of  her  life  and  leave  her  desolate. 

She  liked  Bower,  even  respected  him.  Never  for 
an  instant  had  the  notion  intruded  that  he  had  fol- 
lowed her  to  Switzerland  with  an  unworthy  motive. 
To  her  mind,  nothing  could  be  more  straightforward 
than  their  acquaintance.  The  more  she  reflected  on 
Millicent  Jaques's  extraordinary  conduct,  the  more 
she  was  astounded  by  its  utter  baselessness.  And 
Bower  was  admirable  in  many  ways.  He  stood  high 
in  the  opinion  of  the  world.  He  was  rich,  cultured, 
and  seemingly  very  deeply  enamored  of  her  unde- 
serving self.  What  better  husband  could  any  girl 
desire?  He  would  give  her  everything  that  made 
life  worth  living.  Indeed,  if  the  truth  must  be  told, 
she  was  phenomenally  luck}7. 

Thus  did  she  strive  to  silence  misgivings,  to  quell 
doubt,  to  order  and  regulate  a  blurred  medley  of 
subconscious  thought.  While  laughing,  and  talking, 
and  making  the  most  successful  efforts  to  be  at  ease 
with  the  dozens  of  people  who  came  and  spoke  to 

237 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

Mrs.  de  la  Vere  and  herself,  she  felt  like  some  frail 
vessel  dancing  blithely  in  a  swift,  smooth  current, 
yet  hastening  ever  to  the  verge  of  a  cataract. 

Once  Bower  approached,  skillfully  piloting  Mrs. 
Badminton-Smythe ;  for  Reginald,  tiring  of  the  role 
thrust  on  him  by  his  wife,  had  gone  to  play  bridge. 
It  was  his  clear  intent  to  take  Helen  from  her 
chaperon. 

"  It  is  still  snowing,  though  not  so  heavily,"  he 
said.  "  Come  on  the  veranda,  and  look  at  the  land- 
scape. The  lake  is  a  pool  of  ink  in  the  middle  of  a 
white  table  cloth." 

"  The  snow  will  be  far  more  visible  in  the  morn- 
ing, and  we  have  a  lot  of  ice  to  melt  here,"  inter- 
posed Mrs.  de  la  Vere  quickly. 

The  man  and  woman,  both  well  versed  in  the  ways 
of  society,  looked  each  other  squarely  in  the  eye. 
Though  disappointed,  the  man  understood,  was  even 
appreciative. 

"  Miss  Wynton  is  fortunate  in  her  friends,"  he 
said,  and  straightway  went  to  the  writing  room.  He 
felt  that  Helen  was  safe  with  this  unexpected  ally. 
He  could  afford  to  bide  his  time.  Nothing  could 
now  undo  the  effect  of  his  open  declaration  while 
flouting  Millicent  Jaques.  If  he  gave  that  wayward 
young  person  a  passing  thought,  it  was  one  of  glad- 
ness that  she  had  precipitated  matters.  There  re- 
mained only  an  unpleasant  meeting  with  Stampa  in 
the  morning.  He  shuddered  at  the  recollection  that 
he  had  nearly  done  a  foolish  thing  while  crossing  the 

238 


THE  ALLIES 

crevasse.  What  sinister  influence  could  have  so 
weakened  his  nerve  as  to  make  him  think  of  mur- 
der? Crime  was  the  last  resource  of  impaired  in- 
tellect. He  was  able  to  laugh  now  at  the  stupid  mem- 
ory of  it. 

True,  the  American 

By  the  way,  what  did  Millicent  mean  by  her 
shrewish  cry  that  Spencer  was  paying  for  Helen's 
holiday?  So  engrossed  was  he  in  other  directions 
that  his  early  doubts  with  regard  to  "  The  Fire- 
fly's "  unprecedented  enterprise  in  sending  a  repre- 
sentative to  this  out-of-the-way  Swiss  valley  had 
been  lulled  to  sleep.  Of  course,  he  had  caused  cer- 
tain inquiries  to  be  made — that  was  his  method.  One 
of  the  telegrams  he  dispatched  from  Zurich  after 
Helen's  train  bustled  off  to  Coire  started  the  inves- 
tigation. Thus  far,  a  trusted  clerk  could  only  as- 
certain that  the  newspaper  had  undoubtedly  com- 
missioned the  girl  on  the  lines  indicated.  Still,  the 
point  demanded  attention.  He  resolved  to  telegraph 
further  instructions  in  the  morning,  with  Spencer's 
name  added  as  a  clew,  though,  to  be  sure,  he  was 
not  done  with  Millicent  yet.  He  would  reckon  with 
her  also  on  the  morrow.  Perhaps,  if  he  annoyed 
her  sufficiently,  she  might  explain  that  cryptic 
taunt. 

Could  he  have  seen  a  letter  that  was  brought  to 
Spencer's  room  before  dinner,  the  telegram  would 
not  have  been  written.  Mackenzie,  rather  incoherent 
with  indignation,  sent  a  hurried  scrawl. 

239 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

**  DEAR  MR.  SPEXCEH,"  it  ran, — "A  devil  of  a  thing  has  hap- 
pened. To-day,"  the  date  being  three  days  old,  "  I  went  out  to 
lunch,  leaving  a  thick  headed  subeditor  in  charge.  I  had  not 
been  gone  ten  minutes  when  a  stage  fairy,  all  frills  and  flounces, 
whisked  into  the  office  and  asked  for  Miss  Wynton's  address. 
My  assistant  succumbed  instantly.  He  was  nearly  asphyxiated 
with  joy  at  being  permitted  to  entertain,  not  unawares,  that 
angel  of  musical  comedy,  Miss  Millicent  Jaques.  His  maunder- 
ing excuse  is  that  you  yourself  seemed  to  acknowledge  Miss 
Jaques's  right  to  be  acquainted  with  her  friend's  whereabouts. 
I  have  good  reason  to  believe  that  the  frail  youth  not  only 
spoke  of  Maloja,  but  supplied  such  details  as  were  known  to 
him  of  your  kindness  in  the  matter.  I  have  cursed  him  ex- 
tensively; but  that  can  make  no  amends.  At  any  rate,  I  feel 
that  you  should  be  told,  and  it  only  remains  for  me  to  express 
my  lasting  regret  that  the  incident  should  have  occurred." 

This  letter,  joined  to  certain  lurid  statements 
made  by  Stampa,  had  induced  Spencer  to  accept 
Mrs.  de  la  Vere's  invitation.  Little  as  he  cared  to 
dine  in  Bower's  company,  it  was  due  to  Helen  that 
he  should  not  refuse.  He  was  entangled  neck  and 
heels  in  a  net  of  his  own  contriving.  For  very 
shame's  sake,  he  could  not  wriggle  out,  leaving  Helen 
in  the  toils. 

Surely  there  never  was  a  day  more  crammed  with 
contrarieties.  He  witnessed  his  adversary's  rebuff, 
and  put  it  down  to  its  rightful  cause.  No  sooner 
had  he  discovered  Mrs.  de  la  Vere's  apparent  motive 
in  keeping  the  girl  by  her  side,  than  he  was  button- 
holed by  the  Rev.  Philip  Hare. 

'  You  know  I  am  not  an  ardent  admirer  of 
Bower,"  said  the  cleric ;  "  but  I  must  admit  that  it 

240 


THE  ALLIES 

was  very  manly  of  him  to  make  that  outspoken  state- 
ment about  Miss  Wynton." 

"What  statement?"  asked  Spencer. 

"  Ah,  I  had  forgotten.  You  were  not  present, 
of  course.  He  made  the  other  woman's  hysterical 
outburst  supremely  ridiculous  by  saying,  in  effect, 
that  he  meant  to  marry  Miss  Wynton." 

"He  said  that,  eh?" 

"  Yes.  He  was  quite  emphatic.  I  rebuked  Miss 
Jaques  myself,  and  he  thanked  me." 

"  Everything  was  nicely  cut  and  dried  in  my  ab- 
sence, it  seems." 

"  Well— er " 

"  The  crowd  evidently  lost  sight  of  the  fact  that 
I  had  carried  off  the  prospective  bride." 

"  N-no.     Miss  Jaques  called  attention  to  it." 

"  Guess  her  head  is  screwed  on  straight,  padre. 
She  made  a  bad  break  in  attacking  Miss  Wynton; 
but  when  she  set  about  Bower  she  was  running  on 
a  strong  scent.  Sit  tight,  Mr.  Hare.  Don't  take 
sides,  or  whoop  up  the  wrong  spout,  and  you'll  see 
heaps  of  fun  before  you're  much  older." 

Mightily  incensed,  the  younger  man  turned  away. 
The  vicar  produced  his  handkerchief  and  trumpeted 
into  it  loudly. 

"  God  bless  my  soul ! "  he  said,  and  repeated  the 
pious  wish,  for  he  felt  that  it  did  him  good,  "  how 
does  one  whoop  up  the  wrong  spout?  And  what 
happens  if  one  does?  And  how  remarkably  touchy 
everybody  seems  to  be.  Next  time  I  apply  to  the 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

C.M.S.  for  an  Alpine  station,  I  shall  stipulate  for 
a  low  altitude.  I  am  sure  this  rarefied  air  is  bad 
for  the  nerves." 

Nevertheless,  Hare's  startling  communication  was 
the  one  thing  needed  to  clear  away  the  doubts  that 
beset  Spencer  at  the  dinner  table.  He  had  seen  Mrs. 
de  la  Vere  enter  Helen's  bedroom  when  he  left  the 
girl  in  charge  of  a  gesticulating  maid;  but  an  act 
of  womanly  solicitude  did  not  explain  the  friendship 
that  sprang  so  suddenly  into  existence.  Now  he  un- 
derstood, or  thought  he  understood,  which  is  a  man's 
way  when  he  seeks  to  interpret  a  woman's  mind. 
Mrs.  de  la  Vere,  like  the  rest,  was  dazzled  by  Bower's 
wealth.  After  ignoring  Helen  during  the  past  fort- 
night, she  was  prepared  to  toady  to  her  instantly 
in  her  new  guise  as  the  chosen  bride  of  a  millionaire. 
The  belief  added  fuel  to  the  fire  already  raging  in 
his  breast. 

There  never  was  man  more  loyal  to  woman  in 
his  secret  meditations  than  Spencer;  but  his  gorge 
rose  at  the  sight  of  Helen's  winsome  gratitude  to 
one  so  unworthy  of  it.  With  him,  now  as  ever,  to 
think  was  to  act. 

Watching  his  chance,  he  waylaid  Helen  when  her 
vigilant  chaperon  was  momentarily  absorbed  in  a 
suggestion  that  private  theatricals  and  the  re- 
hearsal of  a  minuet  would  relieve  the  general  tedium 
while  the  snow  held. 

"  Spare  me  five  minutes,  Miss  Wynton,"  he  said. 
"  I  want  to  tell  you  something." 


THE  ALLIES 

Mrs.  de  la  Vere  piroueted  round  on  him  before 
the  girl  could  answer. 

"  Miss  Wynton  is  just  going  to  bed,"  she  in- 
formed him  graciously.  "  You  know  how  tired  she 
is,  Mr.  Spencer.  You  must  wait  till  the  morning." 

"  I  don't  feel  like  waiting ;  but  I  promise  to  cut 
down  my  remarks  to  one  minute — by  the  clock." 
He  answered  Mrs.  de  la  Vere,  but  looked  at  Helen. 

Her  color  rose  and  fell  almost  with  each  beat  of 
her  heart.  She  saw  the  steadfast  purpose  in  his 
eyes,  and  shrank  from  the  decision  she  would  be 
called  upon  to  make.  Hardly  realizing  what  form 
the  words  took,  she  gave  faint  utterance  to  the  first 
lucid  idea  that  presented  itself.  "  I  think — I  must 
really — go  to  my  room,"  she  murmured.  "  You 
wouldn't — like  me — to  faint  twice  in  one  evening — 
Mr.  Spencer?  " 

It  was  an  astonishing  thing  to  say,  the  worst 
thing  possible.  It  betrayed  an  exact  knowledge  of 
his  purpose  in  seeking  this  interview.  His  eyes 
blazed  with  a  quick  light.  It  seemed  that  he  was 
answered  before  he  spoke. 

"  Not  one  second.  Go  away,  do !  "  broke  in  Mrs. 
de  la  Vere,  whisking  Helen  toward  the  elevator  with- 
out further  parley.  But  she  shot  a  glance  at  Spen- 
cer over  her  shoulder  that  he  could  not  fail  to  in- 
terpret as  a  silent  message  of  encouragement. 
Forthwith  he  viewed  her  behavior  from  a  more 
favorable  standpoint. 

"  Guess   the   feminine   make-up   is   more   complex 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

than  I  counted  on,"  he  communed,  as  he  bent  over 
a  table  to  find  a  match,  that  being  a  commonplace 
sort  of  action  calculated  to  disarm  suspicion,  lest 
others  might  be  observing  him,  and  wondering  why 
the  women  retired  so  promptly. 

"  I  like  your  American,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  de  la 
Vere  sympathetically,  in  the  solitude  of  the  corridor. 

Helen  was  silent. 

"  If  you  want  to  cry,  don't  mind  me,"  went  on  the 
kindly  cynic.  "  I'm  coming  in  with  you.  I'll  light 
up  while  you  weep,  and  then  you  must  tell  me  all 
about  it.  That  will  do  you  a  world  of  good." 

"There's  n-n-nothing  to  tell!"  bleated  Helen. 

"  Oh  yes,  there  is.  You  silly  child,  to-morrow  you 
will  have  to  choose  between  those  two  men.  Which 
shall  it  be?  I  said  before  dinner  that  I  couldn't 
help  you  to  decide.  Perhaps  I  was  mistaken.  Any- 
how, I'll  try." 

At  midnight  the  snow  storm  ceased,  the  wind 
died  away,  and  the  still  air  deposited  its  vapor  on 
hills  and  valley  in  a  hoar  frost.  The  sun  rose  with 
a  magnificent  disregard  for  yesterday's  riot. 

Spencer's  room  faced  the  southeast.  When  the 
valet  drew  his  blind  in  the  morning  the  cold  room 
was  filled  with  a  balmy  warmth.  A  glance  through 
the  window,  however,  dispelled  a  germ  of  hope  that 
Helen  and  he  might  start  on  the  promised  walk  to 
Vicosoprano.  The  snow  lay  deep  in  the  pass,  and 
probably  extended  a  mile  or  two  down  into  the  Vale 


THE  ALLIES 

of  Bregaglia.  The  rapid  thaw  that  would  set  in 
during  the  forenoon  might  clear  the  roads  before 
sunset.  Next  day,  walking  would  be  practicable; 
to-day  it  meant  wading. 

He  looked  through  the  Orlegna  gorge,  and  caught 
the  silvery  sheen  of  the  Cima  di  Rosso's  snow  capped 
summit.  Hardly  a  rock  was  visible.  The  gale  had 
clothed  each  crag  with  a  white  shroud.  All  day  long 
the  upper  reaches  of  the  glacier  would  be  pelted  bj 
avalanches.  It  struck  him  that  an  early  stroll  to 
the  highest  point  of  the  path  beyond  Cavloccio 
might  be  rewarded  with  a  distant  view  of  several 
falls.  In  any  case,  it  provided  an  excellent  pretext 
for  securing  Helen's  company,  and  he  would  have 
cheerfully  suggested  a  trip  in  a  balloon  to  attain  the 
same  object. 

The  temperature  of  his  bath  water  induced  doubts 
as  to  the  imminence  of  the  thaw.  Indeed,  the  air 
was  bitterly  cold  as  yet.  The  snow  lay  closely  on 
roads  and  meadow  land.  It  had  the  texture  of  fine 
powder.  Passing  traffic  left  shallow,  well  defined 
marks.  A  couple  of  stablemen  swung  their  arms 
to  restore  circulation.  The  breath  of  horses  and 
cattle  showed  in  dense  clouds. 

For  once  in  his  life  the  color  of  a  tie  and  the  style 
of  his  clothes  became  matters  of  serious  import.  At 
first,  he  was  blind  to  the  humor  of  it.  He  hesitated 
between  the  spruce  tightness  of  a  suit  fashioned  by 
a  New  York  tailor  and  the  more  loosely  designed 
garments  he  had  purchased  in  London.  Then  he 

245 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

laughed  and  reddened.  Flinging  both  aside,  he 
chose  the  climber's  garb  worn  the  previous  day,  and 
began  to  dress  hurriedly.  Therein  he  was  well  ad- 
vised. Nothing  could  better  become!  his  athletic 
figure.  He  was  that  type  of  man  who  looks  thinner 
when  fully  clothed.  He  had  never  spared  himself 
when  asking  others  to  work  hard,  and  he  received  his 
guerdon  now  in  a  frame  of  iron  and  sinews  of  pliant 
steel. 

Helen  usually  came  down  to  breakfast  at  half- 
past  eight.  She  had  the  healthy  British  habit  of 
beginning  the  day  with  a  good  meal,  and  Spencer 
indulged  in  the  conceit  that  he  might  be  favored  with 
a  tete-a-tete  before  they  started  for  the  projected 
walk.  Neither  Bower  nor  Mrs.  de  la  Vere  ever  put 
in  an  appearance  at  that  hour.  Though  Americans 
incline  to  the  Continental  manner  of  living,  this  true 
Westerner  found  himself  a  sudden  convert  to  Eng- 
lish methods.  In  a  word,  he  was  in  love,  and 
his  lady  could  not  err.  To  please  her  he  was 
prepared  to  abjure  iced  water — even  to  drink 
tea. 

But,  as  often  happens,  his  cheery  mood  was  des- 
tined to  end  in  disappointment.  He  lingered  a  whole 
hour  in  the  salle  a  manger,  but  Helen  came  not. 
Then  he  rose  in  a  panic.  What  if  she  had  break- 
fasted in  her  room,  and  was  already  basking  in  the 
sunlit  veranda — perhaps  listening  to  Bower's  elo- 
quence? He  rushed  out  so  suddenly  that  his  waiter 
was  amazed.  Really,  these  Americans  were  incom- 

246 


THE  ALLIES 

prehensible — weird  as  the  English.  The  two  races 
dwelt  far  apart,  but  they  moved  in  the  same  erratic 
orbit.  To  the  stolid  German  mind  they  were  human 
comets,  whose  comings  and  goings  were  not  to  be 
gaged  by  any  reasonable  standard. 

No,  the  veranda  was  empty — to  him.  Plenty  of 
people  greeted  him;  but  there  was  no  Helen.  Ulti- 
mately he  reflected  that  their  appointment  was  for 
ten  o'clock.  He  calmed  down,  and  a  pipe  became 
obvious.  He  was  enjoying  that  supremest  delight 
of  the  smoker — the  first  soothing  whiffs  of  the  day's 
tobacco — when  a  servant  brought  him  a  note.  The 
handwriting  was  strange  to  his  eyes ;  but  a  premoni- 
tion told  him  that  it  was  Helen's.  Somehow,  he  ex- 
pected that  she  would  write  in  a  clear,  strong,  legible 
way.  He  was  not  mistaken.  She  sent  a  friendly  lit- 
tle message  that  she  was  devoting  the  morning  to 
work.  The  weather  made  it  impossible  to  go  to 
Vicosoprano,  and  in  any  event  she  did  not  feel  equal 
to  a  long  walk.  "  Yesterday's  events,"  she  explained, 
"  took  more  out  of  me  than  I  imagined." 

Well,  she  had  been  thinking  of  him,  and  that 
counted.  He  was  staring  at  the  snow  covered  tennis 
courts,  and  wondering  how  soon  the  valley  would 
regain  its  summer  aspect,  when  Stampa  limped  into 
sight  round  the  corner  of  the  hotel.  He  stood  at  the 
foot  of  the  broad  flight  of  steps,  as  though  waiting 
for  someone.  Spencer  was  about  to  join  him  for  a 
chat,  when  he  recollected  that  Bower  and  the  guide 
had  an  arrangement  to  meet  in  the  morning. 

247 


With  the  memory  came  a  queer  jumble  of  impres- 
sions. Stampa's  story,  told  overnight,  was  a  sad 
one;  but  the  American  was  too  fair  minded  to  affect 
a  moral  detestation  of  Bower  because  of  a  piece  of 
folly  that  wrecked  a  girl's  life  sixteen  years  ago. 
If  the  sins  of  a  man's  youth  were  to  shadow  his 
whole  life,  then  charity  and  regeneration  must  be 
cast  out  of  the  scheme  of  things.  Moreover,  Bower's 
version  of  the  incident  might  put  a  new  face  on  it. 
There  was  no  knowing  how  he  too  had  been  tempted 
and  suffered.  That  he  raged  against  the  resurrec- 
tion of  a  bygone  misdeed  was  shown  by  his  mad 
impulse  to  kill  Stampa  on  the  glacier.  That  such 
a  man,  strong  in  the  power  of  his  wealth  and  social 
position,  should  even  dream  of  blotting  out  the  past 
by  a  crime,  offered  the  clearest  proof  of  the  frenzy 
that  possessed  him  as  soon  as  he  recognized  Etta 
Stampa's  father. 

Not  one  word  of  his  personal  belief  crossed  Spen- 
cer's lips  during  the  talk  with  the  guide.  Rather 
did  he  impress  on  his  angry  and  vengeful  hearer 
that  a  forgotten  scandal  should  be  left  in  its  tomb. 
He  took  this  line,  not  that  he  posed  as  a  moralist, 
but  because  he  hated  to  acknowledge,  even  to  him- 
self, that  he  was  helped  in  his  wooing  by  Helen's 
horror  of  his  rival's  lapse  from  the  standard  every 
pure  minded  woman  sets  up  in  her  ideal  lover. 
Ethically,  he  might  be  wrong;  in  his  conscience  he 
was  justified.  He  had  suffered  too  grievously  from 
every  species  of  intrigue  and  calumny  during  his 

248 


THE  ALLIES 

own  career  not  to  be  ultra-sensitive  in  regard  to  the 
use  of  such  agents. 

Yet,  watching  the  bent  and  crippled  old  man 
waiting  there  in  the  snow,  a  sense  of  pity  and  mourn- 
ing chilled  his  heart  with  ice  cold  touch. 

"  If  I  were  Stampa's  son,  if  that  dead  girl  were 
my  sister,  how  would  7  settle  with  Bower?  "  he  asked, 
clenching  his  pipe  firmly  between  his  teeth.  "  Well, 
I  could  only  ask  God  to  be  merciful  both  to  him  and 
to  me." 

"Good  gracious,  Mr.  Spencer!  why  that  fierce 
gaze  at  our  delightful  valley  ?  "  came  the  voice  of 
Mrs.  de  la  Vere.  "  I  am  glad  none  of  us  can  give 
you  the  address  of  the  Swiss  clerk  of  the  weather — 
or  you  would  surely  slay  him." 

He  turned.  Convention  demanded  a  smile  and  a 
polite  greeting;  but  Spencer  was  not  conventional. 
"  You  are  a  thought  reader,  Mrs.  de  la  Vere,"  he 
said. 

"  *  One  of  my  many  attractions,'  you  should  have 
added." 

"  I  find  this  limpid  light  too  critical." 

"  Oh,  what  a  horrid  thing  to  tell  any  woman, 
especially  in  the  early  morning !  " 

"  I  have  a  wretched  habit  of  putting  the  second 
part  of  a  sentence  first.  I  really  intended  to  say — 
but  it  is  too  late." 

"  It  is  rather  like  swallowing  the  sugar  coating 
after  the  pill;  but  I'll  try." 

"  Well,   then,   this    crystal   atmosphere   does   not 

249 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

lend  itself  to  the  obvious.  If  we  were  in  London,  I 
should  catalogue  your  bewitchments  lest  you  imag- 
ined I  was  blind  to  them." 

"  That  sounds  nice,  but r 

"  It  demands  analysis,  so  I  have  failed  doubly." 

"  I  don't  feel  up  to  talking  like  a  character  in 
one  of  Henry  James's  novels.  And  you  were  much 
more  amusing  last  night.  Have  you  seen  Miss 
Jaques  this  morning?  " 

"  No.     That  is,  I  don't  think  so." 

"  Do  you  know  her?  " 

"  No." 

"  It  would  be  a  kind  thing  if  someone  told  her 
that  there  are  other  places  in  Switzerland  vhere  she 
will  command  the  general  admiration  she  deserves." 

"  I  am  inclined  to  believe  that  there  is  a  man  in 
the  hotel  who  can  put  that  notion  before  her  deli- 
cately." 

Spencer  possessed  the  unchanging  gravity  of  ex- 
pression that  the  whole  American  race  seems  to  have 
borrowed  from  the  Red  Indian.  Mrs.  de  la  Vere's 
eyes  twinkled  as  she  gazed  at  him. 

"  You  didn't  hear  what  was  said  last  night,"  she 
murmured.  "  Where  Millicent  Jaques  is  concerned, 
delicacy  is  absent  from  Mr.  Bower's  make-up — IB 
that  good  New  York?" 

"  It  would  be  understood.** 

This  time  he  smiled.  Mrs.  de  la  Vere  wished  to 
be  a  friend  to  Helen.  Whatsoever  her  motive,  the 
wish  was  excellent. 

250 


THE  ALLIES 

"  You  are  severe,"  she  pouted.  "  Of  course  I 
ought  not  to  mimic  you " 

"  Pray  do.     I  had  no  idea  I  spoke  so  nicely." 

"  Thank  you.  But  I  am  serious.  I  have  espoused 
Miss  Wynton's  cause,  and  there  will  be  nothing  but 
unhappiness  for  her  while  that  other  girl  remains 
here." 

"  I  hope  you  are  mistaken,"  he  said  slowly,  meet- 
ing her  quizzing  glance  without  flinching. 

"  That  is  precisely  where  a  woman's  point  of  view 
differs  from  a  man's,"  she  countered.  "  In  our  lives 
we  are  swayed  by  things  that  men  despise.  We  are 
conscious  of  sidelong  looks  and  whisperings.  We 
dread  the  finger  of  scorn.  When  you  have  a  wife, 
Mr.  Spencer,  you  will  begin  to  realize  the  limita- 
tions of  the  feminine  horizon." 

"  Are  you  asking  me  to  take  this  demonstrative 
young  lady  in  hand  ?  " 

"  I  believe  you  would  succeed." 

Spencer  smiled  again.  He  had  not  credited  Mrs. 
dc  la  Vere  with  such  fine  perceptiveness.  If  her 
words  meant  anything,  they  implied  an  alliance, 
offensive  and  defensive,  for  Helen's  benefit  and  his 
own. 

"  Guess  we'll  leave  it  right  there  till  I've  had  a 
few  words  with  Miss  Wynton,"  he  said,  dropping 
suddenly  into  colloquial  phrase. 

"  A  heart  to  heart  talk,  in  fact."  She  laughed 
pleasantly,  and  opened  her  cigarette  case. 

"Tell  you  what,  Mrs.  de  la  Vere,"  he  said,  "if 
251 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

ever  you  come  to  Colorado  I  shall  hail  you  as  a  real 
cousin ! " 

Then  a  silence  fell  between  them.  Bower  was 
walking  out  of  the  hotel.  He  passed  close  in  front 
of  the  glass  partition,  and  might  have  seen  them 
if  his  eyes  were  not  as  preoccupied  as  his  mind.  But 
he  was  looking  at  Stampa,  and  frowning  in  deep 
thought.  The  guide  heard  his  slow,  heavy  tread,  and 
turned.  The  two  met.  They  exchanged  no  word, 
but  went  away  together,  the  lame  peasant  hobbling 
along  by  the  side  of  the  tall,  well  dressed  plutocrat. 

"  How  odd ! "  said  Mrs.  de  la  Vere.  **  How  ex- 
ceedingly odd !  " 


CHAPTER  XIII 


THE    COMPACT 

"  Now,  what  have  you  to  say?  We  are  safe  from 
meddlers  here." 

Bower  spoke  curtly.  Stampa  and  he  were  half- 
way across  the  narrow  strip  of  undulating  meadow 
land  which  shut  off  the  hotel  from  the  village.  They 
had  followed  the  footpath,  a  busy  thoroughfare 
bombarded  with  golf  balls  on  fine  mornings,  but 
likely  to  be  unfrequented  till  the  snow  melted.  Re- 
ceiving no  answer,  Bower  glanced  sharply  at  his 
companion ;  but  the  old  guide  might  be  unaware  of 
his  presence,  so  steadily  did  he  trudge  onward,  with 
downcast,  introspective  eyes.  Resolved  to  make  an 
end  of  a  silence  that  was  irksome,  Bower  halted. 

Then,  for  the  first  time,  Stampa  opened  his  lips. 
"  Not  here,"  he  said. 

"  Why  not  ?     We  are  alone." 

"  You  must  come  with  me,  Herr  Baron." 
253 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

"That  is   not  my   title." 

"  It  used  to  be.    It  will  serve  as  well  as  any  other.'* 

"  I  refuse  to  stir  a  yard  farther." 

"  Then,"  said  Stampa,  "  I  will  kill  you  where  you 
stand ! " 

Neither  in  voice  nor  feature  did  he  exhibit  any 
emotion.  He  merely  put  forward  an  all-sufficing 
reason,  and  left  it  at  that. 

Bower  was  no  coward.  Though  the  curiously 
repressed  manner  of  the  threat  sent  a  wave  of  blood 
from  his  face  to  his  heart,  he  strode  suddenly  nearer. 
Ready  and  eager  to  grapple  with  his  adversary  be- 
fore a  weapon  could  be  drawn,  he  peered  into  the 
peasant's  care  lined  face. 

"So  that  is  your  plan,  is  it?"  he  said  thickly. 
"  You  would  entice  me  to  some  lonely  place,  where 
you  can  shoot  or  stab  me  at  your  own  good  pleasure. 
Fool !  I  can  overpower  you  instantly,  and  have  you 
sent  to  a  jail  or  a  lunatic  asylum  for  the  rest  of 
your  life." 

"  I  carry  no  knife,  nor  can  I  use  a  pistol,  Herr 
Baron,"  was  the  unruffled  answer.  "  I  do  not  need 
them.  My  hands  are  enough.  You  are  a  man,  a 
big,  strong  man,  with  all  a  man's  worst  passions. 
Have  you  never  felt  that  you  could  tear  your  enemy 
with  your  nails,  choke  him  till  the  bones  of  his  neck 
crackled,  and  his  tongue  lolled  out  like  a  panting 
dog's?  That  is  how  I  too  may  feel  if  you  deny 
my  request.  And  I  will  kill  you,  Marcus  Bauer! 
As  sure  as  God  is  in  Heaven,  I  will  kill  you  I" 

254 


THE  COMPACT 

Fear  now  lent  its  blind  fury  to  the  instinct  of 
self  preservation.  Bower  leaped  at  Stampa,  deter- 
mined to  master  him  at  the  first  onslaught.  But  he 
was  heavy  and  slow,  inert  after  long  years  of 
physical  indolence.  The  older  man,  awkward  only 
because  of  his  crippled  leg,  swung  himself  clear  of 
Bower's  grip,  and  sprang  out  of  reach. 

"  If  there  be  any  who  look,  'tis  you  who  risk  im- 
prisonment," he  said  calmly,  with  a  touch  of  humor 
that  assuredly  he  did  not  intend. 

Bower  knew  then  how  greatly  he  had  erred.  It 
was  a  mistake  ever  to  have  agreed  to  meet  Stampa 
alone — a  much  greater  one  not  to  have  waited  to  be 
attacked.  As  Stampa  said  truly,  if  anyone  in  the 
village  had  seen  his  mad  action,  there  would  be  testi- 
mony that  he  was  the  aggressor.  He  frowned  at 
Stampa  in  a  bull-like  rage,  glowering  at  him  in  a 
frenzy  of  impotence.  This  dour  old  man  opposed 
a  grim  barrier  to  his  hopes.  It  was  intolerable  that 
he,  Mark  Bower  the  millionaire,  a  man  who  held 
within  his  grasp  all  that  the  material  world  has  to 
give,  should  be  standing  there  at  the  mercy  of  a 
Swiss  peasant.  Throughout  the  dreary  vigil  of 
the  night  he  had  pondered  this  thing,  and  could 
find  no  loophole  of  escape.  The  record  of  that  ac- 
cursed summer  sixteen  years  ago  was  long  since 
obliterated  in  the  history  of  Marcus  Bauer,  the 
emotional  youth  who  made  love  to  a  village  belle  in 
Zermatt,  and  posed  as  an  Austrian  baron  among  the 
English  and  Italians  who  at  that  time  formed  the 

255 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

select  band  of  climbers  in  the  Valais.  But  the  short- 
lived romance  was  dead  and  buried,  and  its  memory 
brought  the  taste  of  Dead  Sea  ashes  to  the  mouth. 

Marcus  Bauer  had  become  a  naturalized  English- 
man. The  mock  barony  was  replaced  by  a  wealth 
that  might  buy  real  titles.  But  the  crime  still  lived, 
and  woe  to  Mark  Bower,  the  financial  magnate,  if 
it  was  brought  home  to  him !  He  had  not  risen  above 
his  fellows  without  making  enemies.  He  well  knew 
the  weakness  and  the  strength  of  the  British  social 
system,  with  its  strange  complacency,  its  "  allow- 
ances," its  hysterical  prudery,  its  queer  amalgam 
of  Puritanism  and  light  hearted  forbearance.  He 
might  gamble  with  loaded  dice  in  the  City,  and  people 
would  applaud  him  as  cleverer  and  shrewder  than  his 
opponents.  His  name  might  be  coupled  with  that 
of  a  pretty  actress,  and  people  would  only  smile 
knowingly.  But  let  a  hint  of  his  betrayal  of  Etta 
Stampa  and  its  attendant  circumstances  reach  the 
ears  of  those  who  hated  him,  and  he  would  sink  forth- 
with into  the  slough  of  rich  parvenus  who  eke  out 
their  lives  in  vain  efforts  to  enter  the  closely  guarded 
circle  from  which  he  had  been  expelled. 

If  that  was  the  only  danger,  he  might  meet  and 
vanquish  it.  The  unscrupulous  use  of  money,  backed 
up  by  the  law  of  libel,  can  do  a  great  deal  to  still 
the  public  conscience.  There  was  another,  more 
subtle  and  heart  searching. 

He  was  genuinely  in  love  with  Helen  Wynton.  He 
had  reached  an  age  when  position  and  power  were 

256 


THE  COMPACT 

more  gratifying  than  mere  gilded  Bohemianism.  He 
could  enter  Parliament  either  by  way  of  Palace  Yard 
or  through  the  portals  of  the  Upper  House.  He 
owned  estates  in  Scotland  and  the  home  counties, 
and  his  Park  Lane  mansion  figured  already  in  the 
address  books  of  half  the  peerage.  It  pleased  him 
to  think  that  in  placing  a  charming  and  gracious 
woman  like  Helen  at  the  head  of  his  household,  she 
would  look  to  him  as  the  lodestar  of  her  existence, 
and  not  tolerate  him  with  the  well-bred  hauteur  of 
one  of  the  many  aristocratic  young  women  who  were 
ready  enough  to  marry  him,  but  who,  in  their  heart 
of  hearts,  despised  him.  He  had  deliberately  avoided 
that  sort  of  matrimonial  blunder.  It  promised  more 
than  it  fulfilled.  He  refused  to  wed  a  woman  who 
deemed  her  social  rank  dearly  bartered  for  his  money. 
Yet,  before  ever  the  question  arose,  he  knew  quite 
well  that  this  girl  whom  he  had  chosen — the  poorly 
paid  secretary  of  some  harmless  enthusiast,  the 
strangely  selected  correspondent  of  an  insignificant 
journal — would  spurn  him  with  scorn  if  she  heard 
the  story  Stampa  might  tell  of  his  lost  daughter. 
That  was  the  wildest  absurdity  in  the  mad  jumble 
of  events  which  brought  him  here  face  to  face  with  a 
broken  and  frayed  old  man, — one  whom  he  had  never 
seen  before  the  previous  day.  It  was  of  a  piece  with 
this  fantasy  that  he  should  be  standing  ankle  deep 
in  snow  under  the  brilliant  sun  of  August,  and  in 
risk,  if  not  in  fear,  of  his  life  within  two  hundred 
yards  of  a  crowded  hotel  and  a  placid  Swiss  village. 

257 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

His  usually  well  ordered  brain  rebelled  against 
these  manifest  incongruities.  His  passion  subsided 
almost  as  quickly  as  it  had  arisen.  He  moistened 
his  cold  lips  with  his  tongue,  and  the  action  seemed 
to  restore  his  power  of  speech. 

"  I  suppose  you  have  some  motive  in  bringing  me 
here.  What  is  it?  "  he  said. 

"  You  must  come  to  the  cemetery.     It  is  not  far." 

This  unlocked  for  reply  struck  a  new  note.  It 
had  such  a  bizarre  effect  that  Bower  actually 
laughed.  "  Then  you  really  are  mad  ?  "  he  guffawed 
harshly. 

"  No,  not  at  all.  I  was  on  the  verge  of  madness 
the  other  day ;  but  I  was  pulled  back  in  time,  thanks 
to  the  Madonna,  else  I  might  never  have  met  you." 

"  Do  you  expect  me  to  walk  quietly  to  the  burial 
ground  in  order  that  I  may  be  slaughtered  con- 
veniently? " 

"  I  am  not  going  to  kill  you,  Marcus  Bauer," 
said  Stampa.  "  I  trust  the  good  God  will  enable 
me  to  keep  my  hands  off  you.  He  will  punish  you 
in  His  own  good  time.  You  are  safe  from  me." 

"  A  moment  ago  you  spoke  differently." 

"  Ah,  that  was  because  you  refused  to  come  with 
me.  Assuredly  I  shall  bring  either  you  or  your 
lying  tongue  to  Etta's  grave  this  morning.  But 
you  will  come  now.  You  are  afraid,  Herr  Baron. 
I  see  it  in  your  eyes,  and  you  value  that  well-fed 
body  of  yours  too  highly  not  to  do  as  I  demand. 
Believe  me,  within  the  next  few  minutes  you  shall 

258 


THE  COMPACT 

either  kneel  by  my  little  girl's  grave  or  tumble  into 
your  own." 

"  I  am  not  afraid,  Stampa.  I  warn  you  again 
that  I  am  more  than  a  match  for  you.  Yet  I  would 
willingly  make  any  reparation  within  my  power  for 
the  wrong  I  have  done  you." 

"  Yes,  yes — that  is  all  I  ask — reparation,  such 
as  it  is.  Not  to  me — to  Etta.  Come  then.  I  have 
no  weapon,  I  repeat.  You  trust  to  your  size  and 
strength;  so,  by  your  own  showing,  you  are  safe. 
But  you  must  come !  " 

A  gleam  of  confidence  crept  into  Bower's  eyes. 
Was  it  not  wise  to  humor  this  old  madman?  Per- 
haps, by  displaying  a  remorse  that  was  not  all  act- 
ing, he  might  arrange  a  truce,  secure  a  breathing 
space.  He  would  be  free  to  deal  with  Millicent 
Jaques.  He  might  so  contrive  matters  that  Helen 
should  be  far  removed  from  Stampa's  dangerous 
presence  before  the  threatened  disclosure  was  made. 
Yes,  a  wary  prudence  in  speech  and  action  might 
accomplish  much.  Surely  he  dared  match  his  brain 
against  a  peasant's. 

"  Very  well,"  he  said,  "  I  shall  accompany  you. 
But  remember,  at  the  least  sign  of  violence,  I  shall 
not  only  defend  myself,  but  drag  you  off  to  the 
communal  guardhouse." 

Without  any  answer,  Stampa  resumed  his  steady 
plodding  through  the  snow.  Bower  followed,  some- 
what in  the  rear.  He  glanced  sharply  back  toward 
the  hotel.  So  far  as  he  could  judge,  no  one  had 

259 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

witnessed  that  frantic  spring  at  his  tormentor.  At 
that  hour,  nearly  every  resident  would  be  on  the 
sunlit  veranda.  He  wondered  whether  or  not  Helen 
and  Millicent  had  met  again.  He  wished  now  he 
had  interviewed  Millicent  last  night.  .  Her  problem 
was  simple  enough, — a  mere  question  of  terms.  Spite 
had  carried  her  boldly  through  the  scene  in  the 
foyer;  but  she  was  far  too  sensible  a  young  woman 
to  persist  in  a  hopeless  quarrel. 

It  was  one  of  the  fatalities  that  dogged  his  foot- 
steps ever  since  he  came  to  Maloja  that  the  only 
person  watching  him  at  the  moment  should  happen 
to  be  Millicent  herself.  Her  room  was  situated  at 
the  back  of  the  hotel,  and  she  had  fallen  asleep 
after  many  hours  of  restless  thought.  When  the 
clang  of  a  bell  woke  her  with  a  start  she  found  that 
the  morning  was  far  advanced.  She  dressed  hur- 
riedly, rather  in  a  panic  lest  her  quarry  might  have 
evaded  her  by  an  early  flight.  The  fine  panorama 
of  the  Italian  Alps  naturally  attracted  her  eyes. 
She  was  staring  at  it  idly,  when  she  saw  Bower  and 
Stampa  crossing  the  open  space  in  front  of  her 
bed  room  window. 

Stampa,  of  course,  was  unknown  to  her.  In  some 
indefinable  way  his  presence  chimed  with  her  fear 
that  Bower  would  leave  Maloja  forthwith.  Did  he 
intend  to  post  through  the  Vale  of  Bregaglia  to 
Chiavenna?  Then,  indeed,  she  might  be  called  on 
to  overcome  unforeseen  difficulties.  She  appreciated 
his  character  to  the  point  of  believing  that  Helen 

£60 


THE  COMPACT 

was  his  dupe.  She  regretted  now  that  she  was  so 
foolish  as  to  attack  her  one-time  friend  openly.  Far 
better  have  asked  Helen  to  visit  her  privately,  and 
endeavor  to  find  out  exactly  how  the  land  lay  before 
she  encountered  Bower.  At  any  rate,  she  ought  to 
learn  without  delay  whether  or  not  he  was  hiring 
post  horses  in  the  village.  If  so,  he  was  unwilling 
to  meet  her,  and  the  battle  royal  must  take  place  in 
London. 

A  maid  entered  with  coffee  and  rolls. 

"Who  is  that  man  with  the  English  monsieur?" 
inquired  Millicent,  pointing  to  the  two. 

The  servant  was  a  St.  Moritz  girl,  and  a  glance 
sufficed.  "That?  He  is  Christian  Stampa,  madam. 
He  used  to  drive  one  of  Joos's  carriages ;  but  he  had 
a  misfortune.  He  nearly  killed  a  lady  whom  he  was 
bringing  to  the  hotel,  and  was  dismissed  in  conse- 
quence. Now  he  is  guide  to  an  American  gentleman. 
My  God !  but  they  are  droll,  the  Americans !  " 

The  maid  laughed,  and  created  a  clatter  with  basin 
and  hot  water  can.  Millicent,  forcing  herself  to  eat 
quickly,  continued  to  gaze  after  the  pair.  The 
description  of  Stampa's  employer  interested  her. 
His  drollery  evidently  consisted  in  hiring  a  cripple 
as  guide. 

"  Is  the  American  monsieur  named  Charles  K. 
Spencer?"  she  said,  speaking  very  clearly. 

"  I  do  not  know,  madam.  But  Marie,  who  is  on 
the  second,  can  tell  me.  Shall  I  ask?  " 

"  Do,  please." 

261 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

Leontine  bustled  out.  Just  then  Millicent  was 
amazed  by  Bower's  extraordinary  leap  at  Stampa 
and  the  guide's  agile  avoidance  of  his  would-be 
assailant.  The  men  faced  each  other  as  though  a 
fight  was  imminent ;  but  the  upshot  was  that  they 
walked  on  together  quietly.  Be  sure  that  two  keen 
blue  eyes  watched  their  every  motion  thenceforth, 
never  leaving  them  till  they  entered  the  village  street 
and  disappeared  behind  a  large  chalet. 

"  And  what  did  it  all  mean  ?  Mark  Bower — 
scuffling  with  a  villager !  " 

Millicent's  smooth  forehead  wrinkled  in  earnest 
thought.  How  queer  it  would  be  if  Bower  was 
trying  to  force  Spencer's  guide  into  the  commis-. 
sion  of  a  crime !  He  would  stop  at  nothing.  He 
believed  he  could  bend  all  men,  and  all  women  too, 
to  his  will.  Was  he  angered  by  unexpected  resist- 
ance? She  hoped  the  maid  would  hurry  with  her 
news.  Though  she  meant  to  go  at  once  to  the  vil- 
lage, it  would  be  a  point  gained  if  she  was  certain 
of  Stampa's  identity. 

She  was  already  veiled  and  befurred  when  Leontine 
returned.  Yes,  Marie  had  given  her  full  informa- 
tion. Madam  had  heard,  perhaps,  how  Herr  Bower 
and  the  pretty  English  mademoiselle  were  in  danger 
of  being  snowed  up  in  the  Forno  hut  yesterday. 
Well,  Stampa  had  gone  with  his  voyageur,  Monsieur 
Spensare,  to  their  rescue.  And  the  young  lady  was 
the  one  whom  Stampa  had  endangered  during  his 
career  as  a  cab  driver.  Again,  it  was  droll. 


THE  COMPACT 

Millicent  agreed.  For  the  second  time,  she  re- 
solved to  postpone  her  journey  to  St.  Moritz. 

Bower  was  surprised  when  Stampa  led  him  into 
the  main  road.  Having  never  seen  any  sign  of  a 
cemetery  at  Maloja,  he  guessed  vaguely  that  it 
must  be  situated  close  to  the  church.  Therein,  in 
a  sense,  he  was  right.  It  will  be  remembered  how 
Helen's  solitary  ramble  on  the  morning  after  her 
arrival  in  Maloja  brought  her  to  the  secluded  grave- 
yard. She  first  visited  the  little  Swiss  tabernacle 
which  had  attracted  her  curiosity,  and  thence  took 
the  priest's  path  to  the  last  resting  place  of  his 
flock.  But  Stampa  had  a  purpose  in  following  a 
circuitous  route.  He  turned  sharply  round  the  base 
of  a  huge  pile  of  logs,  stacked  there  in  readiness 
for  the  fires  of  a  long  winter. 

"Look!"  he  said,  throwing  open  the  half  door 
of  a  cattle  shed  behind  the  timber.  "  They  found 
her  here  on  the  second  of  August,  a  Sunday  morn- 
ing, just  before  the  people  went  to  early  mass.  By 
her  side  was  a  bottle  labeled  '  Poison.'  She  bought 
it  in  Zermatt  on  the  sixth  of  July.  So,  you  see, 
my  little  girl  had  been  thinking  a  whole  month  of 
killing  herself.  Poor  child !  What  a  month !  They 
tell  me,  Herr  Baron,  you  left  Zermatt  on  the  sixth 
of  July?" 

Bower's  face  had  grown  cold  and  gray  while  the 
old  man  was  speaking.  He  began  to  understand. 
Stampa  would  spare  him  none  of  the  horror  of  the 

263 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

/ 

tragedy  from  which  he  fled  like  a  lost  soul  when  the 
news  of  it  reached  the  hotel.  Well,  he  would  not 
draw  back  now.  If  Stampa  and  he  were  destined 
to  have  a  settlement,  why  defer  it?  This  was  his 
day  of  reckoning, — of  atonement,  he  hoped, — and 
he  would  not  shirk  the  ordeal,  though  his  flesh  quiv- 
ered and  his  humbled  pride  lashed  him  like  a  whip. 

The  squalid  stable  was  peculiarly  offensive.  Ow- 
ing to  the  gale,  the  cattle  that  ought  to  be  pastur- 
ing in  the  high  alp  were  crowded  there  in  reeking 
filth.  Yesterday,  not  long  before  this  hour,  he  was 
humming  verses  of  cow  songs  to  Helen,  and  beguil- 
ing the  way  to  the  Forno  with  a  recital  of  the 
customs  and  idyls  of  the  hills.  What  a  spiteful  thing 
was  Fate !  Why  had  this  doting  peasant  risen  from 
the  dead  to  drag  him  through  the  mire  of  a  past 
transgression?  If  Stampa  betrayed  anger,  if  his 
eyes  and  voice  showed  the  scorn  and  hatred  of  a 
man  justly  incensed  because  of  his  daughter's  un- 
timely death,  the  situation  would  be  more  tolerable. 
But  his  words  were  mild,  biting  only  by  reason  of 
their  simple  pathos.  He  spoke  in  a  detached  man- 
ner. He  might  be  relating  the  unhappy  story  of 
some  village  maid  of  whom  he  had  no  personal  knowl- 
edge. This  complete  self  effacement  grated  on 
Bower's  nerves.  It  almost  spurred  him  again  to 
ungovernable  rage.  But  he  realized  the  paramount 
need  of  self  control.  He  clenched  his  teeth  in  the 
effort  to  bear  his  punishment  without  protest. 

And  Stampa  seemed  to  have  the  gift  of  divina- 


THE  COMPACT 

tion.  He  read  Bower's  heart.  By  some  means  he 
became  aware  that  the  unsavory  shed  was  loathsome 
to  the  fine  gentleman  standing  beside  him. 

"  Etta  was  always  so  neat  in  her  dress  that  it 
must  have  been  a  dreadful  thing  to  see  her  laid 
there,"  he  went  on.  "  She  fell  just  inside  the  door. 
Before  she  drank  the  poison  she  must  have  looked 
once  at  the  top  of  old  Corvatsch.  She  thought  of 
me,  I  am  sure,  for  she  had  my  letter  in  her  pocket 
telling  her  that  I  was  at  Pontresina  with  my  voy- 
ageurs.  And  she  would  think  of  you  too, — her  lover, 
her  promised  husband." 

Bower  cleared  his  throat.  He  tried  to  frame  a  de- 
nial ;  but  Stampa  waved  the  unspoken  thought  aside. 

"  Surely  you  told  her  you  would  marry  her,  Herr 
Baron  ?  "  he  said  gently.  "  Was  it  not  to  implore 
you  to  keep  your  vow  that  she  journeyed  all  the 
way  from  Zermatt  to  the  Maloja?  She  was  but 
a  child,  an  innocent  and  frightened  child,  and  you 
should  not  have  been  so  brutal  when  she  came  to 
you  in  the  hotel.  Ah,  well!  It  is  all  ended  and 
done  with  now.  It  is  said  the  Madonna  gives  her 
most  powerful  aid  to  young  girls  who  seek  from 
her  Son  the  mercy  they  were  denied  on  earth.  And 
my  Etta  has  been  dead  sixteen  long  years, — long 
enough  for  her  sin  to  be  cleansed  by  the  fire  of  Pur- 
gatory. Perhaps  to-day,  when  justice  is  done  to 
her  at  last,  she  may  be  admitted  to  Paradise.  Who 
can  tell?  I  would  ask  the  priest;  but  he  would  bid 
me  not  question  the  ways  of  Providence." 

265 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

At  last  Bower  found  his  voice.  "  Etta  is  at 
peace,"  he  muttered.  "  We  have  suffered  for  our 
folly — both  of  us.  I — I  could  not  marry  her.  It 
was  impossible." 

Stampa  did  look  at  him  then, — such  a  look  as  the 
old  Roman  may  have  cast  on  the  man  who  caused 
him  to  slay  his  loved  daughter.  Yet,  when  he  spoke, 
his  words  were  measured,  almost  reverent.  "  Not  im- 
possible, Marcus  Bower.  Nothing  is  impossible  to 
God,  and  He  ordained  that  you  should  marry  my 
Etta." 

"  I  tell  you : '  began  Bower  huskily ;  but  the 

other  silenced  him  with  a  gesture. 

"  They  took  her  to  the  inn, — they  are  kind  people 
who  live  there, — and  someone  telegraphed  to  me. 
The  news  went  to  Zermatt,  and  back  to  Pontresina. 
I  was  high  up  in  the  Bernina  with  my  party.  But 
a  friend  found  me,  and  I  ran  like  a  madman  over 
ice  and  rock  in  the  foolish  belief  that  if  only  I  held 
my  little  girl  in  my  arms  I  should  kiss  her  back  to 
life  again.  I  took  the  line  of  a  bird.  If  I  had 
crossed  the  Muretto,  I  should  not  be  lame  to-day; 
but  I  took  Corvatsch  in  my  path,  and  I  fell,  and 
when  I  saw  Etta's  grave  the  grass  was  growing  on 
it.  Come!  The  turf  is  sixteen  years  old  now." 

Breaking  off  thus  abruptly,  he  swung  away  into 
the  open  pasture.  Bower,  heavy  with  wrath  and 
care,  strode  close  behind.  He  strove  to  keep  his 
brain  intent  on  the  one  issue, — to  placate  this  sorrow- 
ing old  man,  to  persuade  him  that  silence  was  best. 

266 


Soon  they  reached  a  path  that  curved  upward 
among  stunted  trees.  It  ended  at  an  iron  gate  in 
the  center  of  a  low  wall.  Bower  shuddered.  This, 
then,  was  the  cemetery.  He  had  never  noticed  it, 
though  in  former  years  he  could  have  drawn  a  map 
of  the  Maloja  from  memory,  so  familiar  was  he  with 
every  twist  and  turn  of  mountain,  valley,  and  lake. 
The  sun  was  hot  on  that  small,  pine  sheltered  hillock. 
The  snow  was  beginning  to  melt.  It  clogged  their 
feet,  and  left  green  patches  where  their  footprints 
would  have  been  clearly  marked  an  hour  earlier.  And 
they  were  not  the  only  visitors  that  day.  There 
were  signs  of  one  who  had  climbed  the  hill  since  the 
snow  ceased  falling. 

Inside  the  wall  the  white  covering  lay  deep. 
Bower's  prominent  eyes,  searching  everywhere  with 
furtive  horror,  saw  that  a  little  space  had  been 
cleared  in  one  corner.  The  piled  up  snow  was 
strewed  with  broken  weeds  and  tufts  of  long  grass. 
It  bore  an  uncanny  resemblance  to  the  edges  of  a 
grave.  He  paused,  irresolute,  unnerved,  yet  des- 
perately determined  to  fall  in  with  Stampa's  strange 
mood. 

"  There  is  nothing  to  fear,"  said  the  old  man 
gently.  "  They  brought  her  here.  You  are  not 
afraid — you,  who  clasped  her  to  your  breast,  and 
swore  you  loved  her?  " 

Bower's  face,  deathly  pale  before,  flamed  into 
sudden  life.  The  strain  was  unbearable.  He  could 
feel  his  own  heart  beating  violently.  "  What  do 

267 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

you  want  me  to  do?"  he  almost  shouted.  "She  is 
dead !  My  repentance  is  of  no  avail !  Why  are  you 
torturing  me  in  this  manner?  " 

"  Softly,  son-in-law,  softly !  You  are  disturbed, 
or  you  would  see  the  hand  of  Providence  in  our 
meeting.  What  could  be  better  arranged?  You 
have  returned  after  all  these  years.  It  is  not  too 
late.  To-day  you  shall  marry  Etta !  " 

Bower's  neck  was  purple  above  the  line  of  his 
white  collar.  The  veins  stood  out  on  his  temples. 
He  looked  like  one  in  the  throes  of  apoplexy. 

"  For  Heaven's  sake !  what  do  you  mean  ?  "  h* 
panted. 

"  I  mean  just  what  I  say.  This  is  your  wedding 
day.  Your  bride  lies  there,  waiting.  Never  did 
woman  wait  for  her  man  so  still  and  patient." 

"  Come  away,  Stampa !  This  thing  must  be  deal t 
with  reasonably.  Come  away !  Let  us  find  som^ 
less  mournful  place,  and  I  shall  tell  you " 

"  Nay,  even  yet  you  do  not  understand.  Well, 
then,  Marcus  Bauer,  hear  me  while  you  may.  I 
swear  you  shall  marry  my  girl,  if  I  have  to  recite 
the  wedding  prayers  over  your  dead  body.  I  have 
petitioned  the  Madonna  to  spare  me  from  becoming 
a  murderer,  and  I  give  you  this  last  chance  of  saving 
your  dirty  life.  Kneel  there,  by  the  side  of  the 
grave,  and  attend  to  the  words  that  I  shall  read  to 
you,  or  you  must  surely  die!  You  came  to  Zermatt 
and  chose  my  Etta.  Very  well,  if  it  be  God's  will 
that  she  should  be  the  wife  of  a  scoundrel  like  you, 

268 


THE  COMPACT 

it  is  not  for  me  to  resist.  Marry  her  you  shall,  here 
and  now !  I  will  bind  you  to  her  henceforth  and  for 
all  eternity,  and  the  time  will  come  when  her  inter- 
cession may  drag  you  back  from  the  hell  your  cruel 
deed  deserves." 

With  a  mighty  effort,  Bower  regained  the  self-con- 
ceit that  Stampa's  words,  no  less  than  the  depress- 
ing environment,  had  shocked  out  of  him.  The 
grotesque  nature  of  the  proposal  was  a  tonic  in 
itself. 

"  If  I  had  expected  any  such  folly  on  your  part, 
I  should  not  have  come  with  you,"  he  said,  speaking 
with  something  of  his  habitual  dignity.  "  Your  sug- 
gestion is  monstrous.  How  can  I  marry  a  dead 
woman  ?  " 

Stampa's  expression  changed  instantly.  Its  meek 
sorrow  yielded  to  a  ferocity  that  was  appalling. 
Already  bent,  he  crouched  like  a  wild  beast  gathering 
itself  for  an  attack. 

"Do  you  refuse?"  he  asked,  in  a  low  note  of 
intense  passion. 

"  Yes,  curse  you !  And  mutter  your  prayers  in 
your  own  behalf.  You  need  them  more  than  I." 

Bower  planted  himself  firmly,  right  in  the  gate- 
way. He  clenched  his  fists,  and  savagely  resolved 
to  batter  this  lunatic's  face  into  a  pulp.  He  had  a 
notion  that  Stampa  would  rush  straight  at  him, 
and  give  him  an  opportunity  to  strike  from  the 
shoulder,  hard  and  true.  He  was  bitterly  unde- 
ceived. The  man  who  was  nearly  twenty  years  his 

269 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

senior  jumped  from  the  top  of  a  low  monument  on 
to  the  flat  coping  stones  of  the  wall.  From  that 
greater  height  he  leaped  down  on  Bower,  who  struck 
out  wildly,  but  without  a  tithe  of  the  force  needed 
to  stop  the  impact  of  a  heavily  built  adversary.  He 
had  to  change  feet  too,  and  he  was  borne  to  the  earth 
by  that  catamount  spring  before  he  could  avoid  it. 
For  a  few  seconds  the  two  writhed  in  the  snow  in 
deadly  embrace.  Then  Stampa  remained  upper- 
most. He  had  pinned  Bower  to  the  ground  face 
downward.  Kneeling  on  his  shoulders,  with  the  left 
hand  gripping  his  neck  and  the  right  clutching  his 
hair  and  scalp,  he  pulled  back  the  wretched  man's 
head  till  it  was  a  miracle  that  the  spinal  column  was 
not  broken. 

"  Now!  "  he  growled,  "  are  you  content?  " 

There  was  no  reply.  It  was  a  physical  impossi- 
bility that  Bower  should  speak.  Even  in  his  tempest 
of  rage  Stampa  realized  this,  and  loosened  his  grip 
sufficiently  to  give  his  opponent  a  moment  of 
precious  breath. 

"  Answer !  "  he  muttered  again.  "  Promise  you 
will  obey,  you  brute,  or  I  crack  your  neck ! " 

Bower  gurgled  something  that  sounded  like  an 
appeal  for  mercy.  Stampa  rose  at  once,  but  took 
the  precaution  to  close  the  gate,  since  they  had 
rolled  into  the  cemetery  during  their  short  fight. 

"  Saperlotte!  "  he  cried,  "  you  are  not  the  first 
who  deemed  me  helpless  because  of  my  crooked  leg. 
You  might  have  run  from  me,  Marcus  Bauer;  you 

270 


THE  COMPACT 

could  never  fight  me.  Were  I  at  death's  door,  I 
would  still  have  strength  left  to  throttle  you  if  once 
my  fingers  closed  round  your  throat." 

Bower  raised  himself  on  hands  and  knees.  He  cut 
an  abject  figure;  but  he  was  beyond  all  thought  of 
appearances.  For  one  dread  moment  his  life  had 
trembled  in  the  balance.  That  glimpse  of  death 
and  of  the  gloomy  path  beyond  was  affrighting.  He 
would  do  anything  now  to  gain  time.  Wealth,  fame, 
love  itself,  what  were  they,  each  and  all,  when  viewed 
from  the  threshold  of  that  barrier  which  admits  a 
man  once  and  for  ever? 

In  deep,  laboring  gasps  his  breath  came  back. 
The  blood  coursed  freely  again  in  his  veins.  He 
lived — ah,  that  was  everything — he  still  lived!  He 
scrambled  to  his  feet,  bare  headed,  yellow  skinned, 
dazed,  and  trembling.  His  eyes  dwelt  on  Stampa 
with  a  new  timidity.  He  found  difficulty  in  straight- 
ening his  limbs.  He  was  quite  insensible  of  his  ridicu- 
lous aspect.  His  clothing,  even  his  hair,  was  matted 
with  soft  snow.  In  a  curiously  servile  way,  he 
stooped  to  pick  up  his  cap. 

Stampa  lurched  toward  the  tiny  patch  of  grass 
from  which  he  had  cleared  the  snow  soon  after  day- 
break. "  Kneel  here  at  her  feet ! "  he  said. 

Bower  approached,  with  a  slow,  dragging  move- 
ment. Without  a  word  of  protest,  he  sank  to  his 
knees.  The  snow  in  his  hair  began  to  melt.  He 
passed  his  hands  over  his  face  as  though  shutting 
out  some  horrific  vision. 

271 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

Stampa  produced  from  his  pocket  a  frayed  and 
tattered  prayer  book — an  Italian  edition  of  the 
Paroissien  Remain.  He  opened  it  at  a  marked  page, 
and  began  to  read  the  marriage  ritual.  Though 
the  words  were  Latin,  and  he  was  no  better  educated 
than  any  other  peasant  in  the  district,  he  pro- 
nounced the  sonorous  phrases  with  extraordinary 
accuracy.  Of  course,  he  was  an  Italian,  and  Latin 
was  not  such  an  incomprehensible  tongue  to  him  as 
it  would  prove  to  a  German  or  Englishman  of  his 
class.  Moreover,  the  liturgy  of  the  Church  of  Rome 
is  familiar  to  its  people,  no  matter  what  their  race. 
Bower,  stupefied  and  benumbed,  though  the  sun  was 
shining  brilliantly,  and  a  constant  dripping  from  the 
pine  branches  gave  proof  of  a  rapid  thaw,  listened 
like  one  in  a  trance.  He  understood  scattered  sen- 
tences, brokenly,  yet  with  sufficient  comprehension. 

"  Confiteor  Deo  omnipotenti,"  mumbled  Stampa, 
and  the  bridegroom  in  this  strange  rite  knew  that 
he  was  making  the  profession  of  a  faith  he  did  not 
share.  His  mind  cleared  by  degrees.  He  was  still 
under  the  spell  of  bodily  fear,  but  his  brain  tri- 
umphed over  physical  stress,  and  bade  him  disre- 
gard these  worn  out  shibboleths.  Nevertheless,  the 
words  had  a  tremendous  significance. 

"  Pater  noster  qui  es  in  ctflis,  sanctificetur  nomen 
tuum  .  .  .  dimitte  nobis  debita  nostra  sicut  et  nos 
dimittimus  debitoribus  nostris.  ..." 

It  was  quite  easy  to  follow  their  general  drift. 
Anyone  who  had  ever  recited  the  Lord's  Prayer  in 


THE  COMPACT 

any  language  would  realize  that  he  was  asking  the 
Deity  to  forgive  him  his  trespasses  as  he  forgave 
those  who  trespassed  against  him.  And  there  came 
to  the  kneeling  man  a  thrilling  consciousness  that 
Stampa  was  appealing  for  him  in  the  name  of  the 
dead  girl,  the  once  blushing  and  timid  maid  whose 
bones  were  crumbling  into  dust  beneath  that  cover- 
let of  earth  and  herbage.  There  could  be  no  doubt- 
ing the  grim  earnestness  of  the  reader.  It  mat- 
tered not  a  jot  to  Stampa  that  he  was  usurping  the 
functions  of  the  Church  in  an  outlandish  travesty  of 
her  ritual.  He  was  sustained  by  a  fixed  belief  that 
the  daughter  so  heartlessly  reft  from  him  was  pres- 
ent in  spirit,  nay,  more,  that  she  was  profoundly 
grateful  for  this  belated  sanctifying  of  an  unhal- 
lowed love.  Bower's  feelings  or  convictions  were  not 
of  the  slightest  consequence.  He  owed  it  to  Etta 
to  make  reparation,  and  the  duty  must  be  fulfilled 
to  the  utmost  letter. 

Strong  man  as  he  was,  Bower  nearly  fainted.  He 
scarce  had  the  faculty  of  speech  when  Stampa  bade 
him  make  the  necessary  responses  in  Italian.  But 
he  obeyed.  All  the  time  the  devilish  conviction  grew 
that  if  he  persisted  in  this  flummery  he  might  emerge 
scatheless  from  a  ghastly  ordeal.  The  punishment 
of  publicity  was  the  one  thing  he  dreaded,  and  that 
might  be  avoided — for  Etta's  sake.  So  he  obeyed, 
with  cunning  pretense  of  grief,  trying  to  veil  the 
malevolence  in  his  heart. 

At  last,  when  the  solemn  "  per  omnia  secula 
273 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

seculorum  "  and  a  peaceful  "  Amen  "  announced  the 
close  of  this  amazing  marriage  service,  Stampa 
looked  fixedly  at  his  supposed  son-in-law. 

"  Now,  Marcus  Bauer,"  he  said,  "  I  have  done 
with  you.  See  to  it  that  you  do  not  again  break 
your  plighted  vows  to  my  daughter!  She  is  your 
wife.  You  are  her  husband.  Not  even  death  can 
divide  you.  Go  !  " 

His  strong,  splendidly  molded  face,  massive  and 
dignified,  cast  in  lines  that  would  have  appealed  to 
a  sculptor  who  wished  to  limn  the  features  of  a 
patriarch  of  old,  wore  an  aspect  of  settled  calm.  He 
was  at  peace  with  all  the  world.  He  had  forgiven 
his  enemy. 

Bower  rose  again  stiffly.  He  would  have  spoken ; 
but  Stampa  now  fell  on  his  knees  and  began  to  pray 
silently.  So  the  millionaire,  humbled  again  and  ter- 
ror stricken  by  the  sinister  significance  of  those  con- 
cluding words,  yet  not  daring  to  question  them, 
crept  out  of  the  place  of  the  dead.  As  he  stag- 
gered down  the  hillside  he  looked  back  once.  He  had 
eyes  only  for  the  little  iron  gate,  but  Stampa  came 
not. 

Then  he  essayed  to  brush  some  of  the  clinging 
snow  off  his  clothes.  He  shook  himself  like  a  dog 
after  a  plunge  into  water.  In  the  distance  he  saw 
the  hotel,  with  its  promise  of  luxury  and  forget- 
fulness..  And  he  cursed  Stampa  with  a  bitter  fury 
of  emphasis,  trying  vainly  to  persuade  himself  that 
he  had  been  the  victim  of  a  maniac's  delusion. 

274 


CHAPTER  XIV 

WHEREIN    MILLICENT    AKMS    FOB,    THE    FRAY 

MILLICENT  was  wondering  how  she  would  fare  in 
the  deep  snow  in  boots  that  were  never  built  for 
such  a  test.  She  was  standing  on  the  swept  road- 
way between  the  hotel  and  the  stables,  and  the  tracks 
of  her  quarry  were  plainly  visible.  But  the  hope  of 
discovering  some  explanation  of  Bower's  queer  be- 
havior was  more  powerful  than  her  dread  of  wet 
feet.  She  was  gathering  her  skirts  daintily  before 
taking  the  next  step,  when  the  two  men  suddenly 
reappeared. 

They  had  left  the  village  and  were  crossing  the 
line  of  the  path.  Shrinking  back  under  cover  of 
an  empty  wagon,  she  watched  them.  Apparently 
they  were  heading  for  the  Orlegna  Gorge,  and  she 
scanned  the  ground  eagerly  to  learn  how  she  could 
manage  to  spy  on  them  without  being  seen  almost 
immediately.  Then  she  fell  into  the  same  error  as 

275 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

Helen  in  believing  that  the  winding  carriage  road 
to  the  church  offered  the  nearest  way  to  the  clump 
of  firs  and  azaleas  by  which  Bower  and  Stampa 
would  soon  be  hidden. 

Three  minutes'  sharp  walking  brought  her  to  the 
church,  but  there  the  highway  turned  abruptly  to- 
ward the  village.  As  one  side  of  the  small  ravine 
faced  south,  the  sun's  rays  were  beginning  to  have 
effect,  and  a  narrow  track,  seemingly  leading  to  the 
hill,  was  almost  laid  bare.  In  any  event,  it  must 
bring  her  near  the  point  where  the  men  vanished,  so 
she  went  on  breathlessly.  Crossing  the  rivulet,  al- 
ready swollen  with  melting  snow,  she  mounted  the 
steps  cut  in  the  hillside.  It  was  heavy  going  in  that 
thin  air;  but  she  held  to  it  determinedly. 

Then  she  heard  men's  voices  raised  in  anger.  She 
recognized  one.  Bower  was  speaking  German, 
Stampa  a  mixture  of  German  and  Italian.  Milli- 
cent  had  a  vague  acquaintance  with  both  languages ; 
but  it  was  of  the  Ollendorf  order,  and  did  not  avail 
her  in  understanding  their  rapid,  excited  words. 
Soon  there  were  other  sounds,  the  animal  cries,  the 
sobs,  the  labored  grunts  of  men  engaged  in  deadly 
struggle.  Thoroughly  alarmed,  more  willing  to  re- 
treat than  advance,  she  still  clambered  on,  impelled 
by  irresistible  desire  to  find  out  what  strange  thing 
was  happening. 

At  last,  partly  concealed  by  a  dwarf  fir,  she  could 
peer  over  a  wall  into  the  tiny  cemetery.  She  was 
too  late  to  witness  the  actual  fight ;  but  she  saw 

276 


MILLICENT  ARMS  FOR  THE  FRAY 

Stampa  spring  upright,  leaving  his  prostrate  oppo- 
nent apparently  lifeless.  She  was  utterly  fright- 
ened. Fear  rendered  her  mute.  To  her  startled  eyes 
it  seemed  that  Bower  had  been  killed  by  the  crippled 
man.  Soon  that  quite  natural  impression  yielded 
to  one  of  sustained  astonishment.  Bower  rose 
slowly,  a  sorry  spectacle.  To  her  woman's  mind, 
unfamiliar  with  scenes  of  violence,  it  was  surprising 
that  he  did  not  begin  at  once  to  beat  the  life  out  of 
the  lame  old  peasant  who  had  attacked  him  so 
viciously.  When  Stampa  closed  the  gate  and  mo- 
tioned Bower  to  kneel,  when  the  tall,  powerfully 
built  man  knelt  without  protest,  when  the  reading 
of  the  Latin  service  began, — well,  Millicent  could 
never  afterward  find  words  to  express  her  conflicting 
emotions. 

But  she  did  not  move.  Crouching  behind  her  pro- 
tecting tree,  guarding  her  very  breath  lest  some 
involuntary  cry  should  betray  her  presence,  she 
watched  the  whole  of  the  weird  ceremonial.  She 
racked  her  brains  to  guess  its  meaning,  strained  her 
ears  to  catch  a  sentence  that  might  be  identified 
hereafter;  but  she  failed  in  both  respects.  Of 
course,  it  was  evident  that  someone  was  buried 
there,  someone  whose  memory  the  wild  looking  vil- 
lager held  dear,  someone  whose  grave  he  had  forced 
Bower  to  visit,  someone  for  whose  sake  he  was  ready 
to  murder  Bower  if  the  occasion  demanded.  So 
much  was  clear;  but  the  rest  was  blurred,  a  medley 
of  incoherences,  a  waking  nightmare. 

277 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

Oddly  enough,  it  never  occurred  to  her  that  a 
woman  might  be  lying  in  that  dreary  tenement.  Her 
first  vague  imagining  suggested  that  Bower  had 
committed  a  crime,  killed  a  man,  and  that  an  avenger 
had  dragged  him  to  his  victim's  last  resting  place. 
That  Stampa  was  laboriously  plodding  through  the 
marriage  ritual  was  a  fantastic  conceit  of  which  she 
received  no  hint.  There  was  nothing  to  dissolve  the 
mist  in  her  mind.  She  could  only  wait,  and  marvel. 

As  the  strange  scene  drew  to  its  close,  she  be- 
came calmer.  She  reflected  that  some  sort  of  regis- 
try would  be  kept  of  the  graves.  A  few  dismal 
monuments,  and  two  rows  of  little  black  wooden 
crosses  that  stuck  up  mournfully  out  of  the  snow, 
gave  proof  positive  of  that.  She  counted  the 
crosses.  Stampa  was  standing  near  the  seventh  from 
a  tomb  easily  recognizable  at  some  future  time. 
Bower  faced  it  on  his  knees.  She  could  not  see  him 
distinctly,  as  he  was  hidden  by  the  other  man's  broad 
shoulders ;  but  she  did  not  regret  it,  because  the  warm 
brown  tints  of  her  furs  against  the  background  of 
snow  and  foliage  might  warn  him  of  her  presence. 
She  thanked  the  kindly  stars  that  brought  her  here. 
No  matter  what  turn  events  took  now,  she  hoped  to 
hold  the  whip  hand  over  Bower.  There  was  a  mys- 
tery to  be  cleared,  of  course ;  but  with  such  materials 
she  could  hardly  fail  to  discover  its  true  bearings. 

So  she  watched,  in  tremulous  patience,  quick  to 
note  each  movement  of  the  actors  in  a  drama  the  like 
to  which  she  had  never  seen  on  the  stage. 

278 


MILLICENT  ARMS  FOR  THE  FRAY 

At  last  Bower  slunk  away.  She  heard  the  crunch- 
ing of  his  feet  on  the  snow,  and,  when  Stampa  ceased 
his  silent  prayer,  she  expected  that  he  would  depart 
by  the  same  path.  To  her  overwhelming  dismay,  he 
wheeled  round  and  looked  straight  at  her.  In  re- 
ality his  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  hills  behind  her.  He 
was  thinking  of  his  unhappy  daughter.  The  giant 
mass  of  Corvatsch  was  associated  in  his  mind  with 
the  girl's  last  glimpse  of  her  beloved  Switzerland, 
while  on  that  same  memorable  day  it  threw  its  deep 
shadow  over  his  own  life.  He  turned  to  the  moun- 
tain to  seek  its  testimony, — as  it  were,  to  the  con- 
summation of  a  tragedy. 

But  Millicent  could  not  know  that.  Losing  all 
command  of  herself,  she  shrieked  in  terror,  and  ran 
wildly  among  the  trees.  She  stumbled  and  fell  be- 
fore she  had  gone  five  yards  over  the  rough  ground. 
Quite  in  a  panic,  confused  and  blinded  with  snow, 
she  rose  and  ran  again,  only  to  find  herself  speeding 
back  to  the  burial  ground.  Then,  in  a  very  agony 
of  distress,  she  stood  still.  Stampa  was  looking  at 
her,  with  mild  surprise  displayed  in  every  line  of 
his  expressive  features.  • 

"  What  are  you  afraid  of,  signorina?  "  he  asked 
in  Italian. 

She  half  understood,  but  her  tongue  clove  to  the 
roof  of  her  mouth.  Her  terror  was  manifest,  and 
he  pitied  her. 

He  repeated  his  question  in  German.  A  child 
might  have  recognized  that  this  man  of  the  be- 

279 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

nignant  face  and  kindly,  sorrow  laden  eyes  intended 
no  evil. 

"  I  am  sorry.  I  beg  your  pardon,  Herr  Stampa," 
she  managed  to  stammer. 

"  Ah,  you  know  me,  then,  signorina!  But  every- 
body knows  old  Stampa.  Have  you  lost  your 
way?" 

"  I  was  taking  a  little  walk,  and  happened  to 
approach  the  cemetery.  I  saw " 

"  There  is  nothing  to  interest  you  here,  madam, 
and  still  less  to  cause  fear.  But  it  is  a  sad  place, 
at  the  best.  Follow  that  path.  It  will  lead  you  to 
the  village  or  the  hotel." 

Her  fright  was  subsiding  rapidly.  She  deemed 
the  opportunity  too  good  to  be  lost.  If  she  could 
win  his  confidence,  what  an  immense  advantage  it 
would  be  in  her  struggle  against  Bower!  Summon- 
ing all  her  energies,  and  trying  to  remember  some 
of  the  German  sentences  learned  in  her  school  days, 
she  smiled  wistfully. 

"  You  are  in  great  trouble,"  she  murmured.  "  I 
suppose  Herr  Bower  has  injured  you?  " 

Stampa  glanced  at  her  keenly.  He  had  the  ex- 
perience of  sixty  years  of  a  busy  life  to  help  him 
in  summing  up  those  with  whom  he  came  in  contact, 
and  this  beautiful,  richly  dressed  woman  did  not  ap- 
peal to  his  simple  nature  as  did  Helen  when  she 
surprised  his  grief  on  a  morning  not  so  long  ago. 
Moreover,  the  elegant  stranger  was  little  better  than 
a  spy,  for  none  but  a  spy  would  have  wandered  among 

280 


MILLICENT  ARMS  FOR  THE  FRAY 

the  rocks  and  shrubs  in  such  weather,  and  he  was  in 
no  mood  to  suffer  her  inquiries. 

"  I  am  in  no  trouble,"  he  said,  "  and  Herr  Bauer 
has  not  injured  me." 

"  But  you  fought,"  she  persisted.  "  I  thought 
you  had  killed  him.  I  almost  wish  you  had.  I  hate 
him!" 

"  It  is  a  bad  thing  to  hate  anyone.  I  am  three 
times  your  age;  so  you  may,  or  may  not,  regard 
my  advice  as  excellent.  Come  round  by  the  corner 
of  the  wall,  and  you  will  reach  the  path  with- 
out walking  in  the  deep  snow.  Good  morning, 
madam." 

He  bowed  with  an  ease  that  would  have  proclaimed 
his  nationality  if  he  had  not  been  an  Italian  moun- 
taineer in  every  poise  and  gesture.  Stooping  to  re- 
cover his  Alpine  hat,  which  was  lying  near  the  cross 
at  the  head  of  the  grave,  he  passed  out  through  the 
gate  before  Millicent  was  clear  of  the  wall.  He  made 
off  with  long,  uneven,  but  rapid  strides,  leaving  her 
hot  with  annoyance  that  a  mere  peasant  should  treat 
her  so  cavalierly.  Though  she  did  not  understand 
all  he  said,  she  grasped  its  purport.  But  her  sore- 
ness soon  passed.  The  great  fact  remained  that  she 
shared  some  secret  with  him  and  Bower,  a  secret  of 
an  importance  she  could  not  yet  measure.  She  was 
tempted  to  go  inside  the  cemetery,  and  might  have 
yielded  to  the  impulse  had  not  a  load  of  snow  sud- 
denly tumbled  off  the  broad  fronds  of  a  pine.  The 
incident  set  her  heart  beating  furiously  again.  How 

281 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

lonely  was  this  remote  hilltop!  Even  the  glorious 
sunshine  did  not  relieve  its  brooding  silence. 

Thus  it  came  about  that  these  three  people  went 
down  into  the  valley,  each  within  a  short  distance 
of  the  others,  and  Spencer  saw  them  all  from  the 
high  road,  where  he  was  questioning  an  official  of  the 
federal  postoffice  as  to  the  method  of  booking  seats 
in  the  banquette  of  the  diligence  from  Vicosopranoj 

That  he  was  bewildered  by  the  procession  goes 
without  saying.  Where  had  they  been,  and  how  in 
the  name  of  wonder  could  the  woman's  presence  be 
accounted  for?  The  polite  postmaster  must  have 
thought  that  the  Englishman  was  very  dense  that 
morning.  Several  times  he  explained  fully  that  the 
two  desired  seats  in  the  diligence  must  be  reserved 
from  Chiavenna.  As  many  times  did  Spencer  repeat 
the  information  without  in  the  least  seeming  to  com- 
prehend it.  He  spoke  with  the  detached  air  of  a 
boy  in  the  first  form  reciting  the  fifth  proposition 
in  Euclid.  At  last  the  postmaster  gave  it  up  in 
despair. 

"  You  see  that  man  there  ?  "  he  said  to  a  keenly 
interested  policeman  when  Spencer  strolled  away  in 
the  direction  of  the  village.  "  He  is  of  the  most 
peculiar.  He  talks  German  like  a  parrot.  He  must 
be  a  rich  American.  Perhaps  he  wants  to  buy  a 
diligence." 

'*  Wer  weiss?  "  said  the  other.  "  Money  makes 
some  folk  mad." 

And,  indeed,  through  Spencer's  brain  was  running 
282 


MILLICENT  ARMS  FOR  THE  FRAY 

a  Bedlamite  jingle,  a  triolet  of  which  the  dominant 
line  was  Bower,  Stampa,  and  Millicent  Jaques.  The 
meeting  of  Bower  and  Stampa  was  easy  of  explana- 
tion. After  the  guide's  story  of  the  previous  even- 
ing, nothing  but  Stampa's  death  or  Bower's  flight 
could  prevent  it.  But  the  woman  from  the  Welling- 
ton Theater,  how  had  she  come  to  know  of  their 
feud?  He  was  almost  tempted  to  quote  the  only 
line  of  Moliere  ever  heard  beyond  the  shores  of 
France. 

Like  every  visitor  to  the  Maloja,  he  was  ac- 
quainted with  each  of  its  roads  and  footpaths  except 
the  identical  one  that  these  three  descended.  Where 
did  it  lead  to?  Before  he  quite  realized  what  he 
was  doing,  he  was  walking  up  the  hill.  In  places 
where  the  sun  had  not  yet  caught  the  snow  there 
was  a  significant  trail.  Bower  had  come  and  gone 
once,  Stampa,  or  some  man  wearing  village-made 
boots,  twice;  but  the  single  track  left  by  Millicent's 
smart  footwear  added  another  perplexing  item  to 
the  puzzle.  So  he  pressed  on,  and  soon  was  gazing 
at  the  forlorn  cemetery,  with  its  signs  of  a  furious 
struggle  between  the  gateposts,  the  uncovered  grave 
space,  and  Millicent's  track  round  two  corners  of 
the  square  built  wall. 

It  was  part  of  his  life's  training  to  read  signs. 
The  mining  engineer  who  would  hit  on  a  six-inch 
lode  in  a  mountain  of  granite  must  combine  imagi- 
nation with  knowledge,  and  Spencer  quickly  made 
out  something  of  the  silent  story, — something,  not 

283 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

all,  but  enough  to  send  him  in  haste  to  the  hotel 
by  the  way  Millicent  had  arrived  on  the  scene. 

"  Guess  there's  going  to  be  a  heap  of  trouble 
round  here,"  he  said  to  himself.  "  Helen  must  be 
recalled,  to  London.  It's  up  to  me  to  make  the  cable 
hot  to  Mackenzie." 

He  had  yet  to  learn  that  the  storm  which  brought 
about  a  good  deal  of  the  preceding  twenty-four 
hours'  excitement  had  not  acted  in  any  niggardly 
fashion.  It  had  laid  low  whole  sections  of  the  tele- 
graph system  on  both  sides  of  the  pass  during  the 
night.  Gangs  of  men  were  busy  repairing  the  wires. 
Later  in  the  day,  said  a  civil  spoken  attendant  at 
the  bureau  des  posies,  a  notice  would  be  exhibited 
stating  the  probable  hour  of  the  resumption  of 
service. 

"  Are  the  wires  down  beyond  St.  Moritz  ?  "  asked 
Spencer. 

"  I  cannot  give  an  assurance,"  said  the  clerk ;  "  but 
these  southwest  gales  usually  do  not  affect  the 
Albula  Pass.  The  road  to  St.  Moritz  is  practicable, 
as  this  morning's  mail  was  only  forty  minutes  be- 
hind time." 

Spencer  ordered  a  carriage,  wrote  a  telegram,  and 
gave  it  to  the  driver,  with  orders  to  forward  it  from 
St.  Moritz  if  possible.  And  this  was  the  text : 

"MACKENZIE,  'FIREFLY'  OFFICE,  FLEET-ST.,  LONDON.  Wire 
Miss  Wynton  positive  instructions  to  return  to  England  imme- 
diately. Say  she  is  wanted  at  office.  I  shall  arrange  matters 
before  she  arrives.  This  is  urgent.  SPENCER." 

284 


MILLICENT  ARMS  FOR  THE  FRAY 

A  heavy  weight  gradually  lifted  off  his  shoulders 
as  he  watched  the  wheels  of  the  vehicle  churning  up 
the  brown  snow  broth  along  the  valley  road.  Within 
two  hours  his  message  would  reach  a  telegraph  of- 
fice. Two  more  would  bring  it  to  Mackenzie.  With 
reasonable  luck,  the  line  repairers  would  link  Maloja 
to  the  outer  world  that  afternoon,  and  Helen  would 
hie  homeward  in  the  morning.  It  was  a  pity  that 
her  holiday  and  his  wooing  should  be  interfered  with ; 
but  who  could  have  foretold  that  Millicent  Jaques 
would  drop  from  the  sky  in  that  unheralded  way? 
Her  probable  interference  in  the  quarrel  between 
Stampa  and  Bower  put  Mrs.  de  la  Vere's  sugges- 
tion out  of  court.  A  woman  bent  on  requiting  a 
personal  slight  would  never  consent  to  forego  such 
a  chance  of  obtaining  ample  vengeance  as  Bower's 
earlier  history  provided. 

In  any  case,  Spencer  was  sure  that  the  sooner 
Helen  and  he  were  removed  from  their  present  envi- 
ronment the  happier  they  would  be.  He  hoped  most 
fervently  that  the  course  of  events  might  be  made 
smooth  for  their  departure.  He  cared  not  a  jot  for 
the  tittle-tattle  of  the  hotel.  Let  him  but  see  Helen 
re-established  in  London,  and  it  would  not  be  his 
fault  if  they  did  not  set  forth  on  their  honeymoon 
before  the  year  was  much  older. 

He  disliked  this  secret  plotting  and  contriving. 
He  adopted  such  methods  only  because  they  offered 
the  surest  road  to  success.  Were  he  to  consult  his 
own  feelings,  he  would  go  straight  to  Helen,  tell 

285 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

her  how  chance  had  conspired  with  vagrom  fancy 
to  bring  them  together,  and  ask  her  to  believe,  as 
all  who  love  are  ready  to  believe,  that  their  union 
was  predestined  throughout  the  ages. 

But  he  could  not  explain  his  presence  in  Switzer- 
land without  referring  to  Bower,  and  the  task  was 
eminently  distasteful.  In  all  things  concerning  the 
future  relations  between  Helen  and  himself,  he  was 
done  with  pretense.  If  he  could  help  it,  her  first 
visit  to  the  Alps  should  not  have  its  record  dark- 
ened by  the  few  miserable  pages  torn  out  of  Bower's 
life.  After  many  years  the  man's  sin  had  discov- 
ered him.  That  which  was  then  done  in  secret  was 
now  about  to  be  shrieked  aloud  from  the  housetops. 
"  Even  the  gods  cannot  undo  the  past,"  said  the 
old  Greeks,  and  the  stern  dogma  had  lost  nothing 
of  its  truth  with  the  march  of  the  centuries.  In- 
deed, Spencer  regretted  his  rival's  threatened  ex- 
posure. If  it  lay  in  his  power,  he  would  prevent  it: 
meanwhile,  Helen  must  be  snatched  from  the  enduring 
knowledge  of  her  innocent  association  with  the  of- 
fender and  his  pillory.  He  set  his  mind  on  the 
achievement.  To  succeed,  he  must  monopolize  her 
company  until  she  quitted  the  hotel  en  route  for 
London. 

Then  he  thought  of  Mrs.  de  la  Vere  as  a  helper. 
Her  seeming  shallowness,  her  glaring  affectations, 
no  longer  deceived  him.  The  mask  lifted  for  an 
instant  by  that  backward  glance  as  she  convoyed 
Helen  to  her  room  the  previous  night  had  proved 

286 


altogether  ineffective  since  their  talk  on  the  veranda. 
He  did  not  stop  to  ask  himself  why  such  a  woman, 
volatile,  fickle,  blown  this  way  and  that  by  social 
zephyrs,  should  champion  the  cause  of  romance.  He 
simply  thanked  Heaven  for  it,  nor  sought  other 
explanation  than  was  given  by  his  unwavering  belief 
in  the  essential  nobility  of  her  sex. 

Therein  he  was  right.  Had  he  trusted  to  her 
intuition,  and  told  Millicent  Jaques  at  the  earliest 
possible  moment  exactly  how  matters  stood  between 
Helen  and  himself,  it  is  only  reasonable  to  suppose 
that  the  actress  would  have  changed  her  plan  of 
campaign.  She  had  no  genuine  antipathy  toward 
Helen,  whose  engagement  to  Spencer  would  be  her 
strongest  weapon  against  Bower.  As  matters  stood, 
however,  Helen  was  a  stumbling  block  in  her  path, 
and  her  jealous  rage  was  in  process  of  being  fanned 
to  a  passionate  intensity,  when  Spencer,  searching 
for  Mrs.  de  la  Vere,  saw  Millicent  in  the  midst  of  a 
group  composed  of  the  Vavasours,  mother  and  son, 
the  General,  and  his  daughters. 

Mrs.  de  Courcy  Vavasour  was  the  evil  spirit  who 
brought  about  this  sinister  gathering.  She  was 
awed  by  Bower,  she  would  not  risk  a  snubbing  from 
Mrs.  de  la  Vere,  and  she  was  exceedingly  annoyed 
to  think  that  Helen  might  yet  topple  her  from  her 
throne.  To  one  of  her  type  this  final  consideration 
was  peculiarly  galling.  And  the  too  susceptible 
Georgie  would  be  quite  safe  with  the  lady  from  the 
Wellington  Theater.  Mrs.  Vavasour  remembered 

287 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

the  malice  in  Millicent's  fine  eyes  when  she  refused 
to  quail  before  Bower's  wrath.  A  hawk  in  pursuit 
of  a  plump  pigeon  would  not  turn  aside  to  snap 
up  an  insignificant  sparrow.  So,  being  well  versed 
in  the  tactics  of  these  social  skirmishes,  she  sought 
Millicent's  acquaintance. 

The  younger  woman  was  ready  to  meet  her  more 
than  halfway.  The  hotel  gossips  were  the  very  per- 
sons whose  aid  she  needed.  A  gracious  smile  and 
a  pouting  complaint  against  the  weather  were  the 
preliminaries.  In  two  minutes  they  were  discussing 
Helen,  and  General  Wragg  was  drawn  into  their 
chat.  Georgie  and  the  Misses  Wragg,  of  course, 
came  uninvited.  They  scented  scandal  as  jackals 
sniff  the  feast  provided  by  the  mightier  beasts. 

Millicent,  really  despising  these  people,  but  anxious 
to  hear  the  story  of  Bower's  love  making,  made  no 
secret  of  her  own  sorrows.  "  Miss  Wynton  was  my 
friend,"  she  said  with  ingenuous  pathos.  "  She 
never  met  Mr.  Bower  until  I  introduced  her  to  him 
a  few  days  before  she  came  to  Switzerland.  You 
may  guess  what  a  shock  it  gave  me  when  I  heard 
that  he  had  followed  her  here.  Even  then,  knowing 
how  strangely  coincidence  works  at  times,  I  refused 
to  believe  that  the  man  who  was  my  promised  hus- 
band would  abandon  me  under  the  spell  of  a  mo- 
mentary infatuation.  For  it  can  be  nothing  more." 

"  Are  you  sure  ? "  asked  the  sympathetic  Mrs. 
Vavasour. 

"  By  gad ! "  growled  Wragg,  "  I'm  inclined  to 
288 


MILLICENT  ARMS  FOR  THE  FRAY 

differ  from  you  there,  Miss  Jaques.  When  Bower 
turned  up  last  week  they  met  as  very  old  friends,  I 
can  assure  you." 

"  Obviously  a  prearranged  affair,"  said  Mrs. 
Vavasour. 

"  None  of  us  has  had  a  look  in  since/'  grinned 
Georgie  vacuously.  "  Even  Reggie  de  la  Vere,  who 
is  a  deuce  of  a  fellah  with  the  girls,  could  not  get 
within  yards  of  her." 

This  remark  found  scant  favor  with  his  audience. 
Miss  Beryl  Wragg,  who  had  affected  de  la  Vere's 
company  for  want  of  an  eligible  bachelor,  pursed  her 
lips  scornfully. 

"  I  can  hardly  agree  with  that,"  she  said. 
"  Edith  de  la  Vere  may  be  a  sport ;  but  she  doesn't 
exactly  fling  her  husband  at  another  woman's  head. 
Anyhow,  it  was  amazing  bad  form  on  her  part  to 
include  Miss  Wynton  in  her  dinner  party  last  night." 

Millicent's  blue  eyes  snapped.  "  Did  Helen  Wyn- 
ton dine  in  public  yesterday  evening? "  she  de- 
manded. 

"  Rather !     Quite  a  lively  crowd  they  were  too." 

"  Indeed.     Who  were  the  others  ?  " 

"  Oh,  the  Badminton-Smythes,  and  the  Bower 
man,  and  that  American — what's  his  name  ?  " 

Then  Millicent  laughed  shrilly.  She  saw  her 
chance  of  delivering  a  deadly  stroke,  and  took  it 
without  mercy.  "  The  American  ?  Spencer?  What 
a  delightful  mixture!  Why,  he  is  the  very  man  who 
is  paying  Miss  Wynton's  expenses." 

289 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

"  So  you  said  last  night.  A  somewhat — er — dan- 
gerous statement,"  coughed  the  General. 

"  Rather  stiff,  you  know — Eh,  what?  "  put  in 
Georgie. 

His  mother  silenced  him  with  a  frosty  glance. 
"  Of  course  you  have  good  reasons  for  saying  that  ?  " 
she  interposed. 

Spencer  passed  at  that  instant,  and  there  was  a 
thrilling  pause.  Millicent  was  well  aware  that  every 
ear  was  alert  to  catch  each  syllable.  When  she 
spoke,  her  words  were  clear  and  precise. 

"  Naturally,  one  would  not  say  such  a  thing  about 
any  girl  without  the  utmost  certainty,"  she  purred. 
"  Even  then,  there  are  circumstances  under  which 
one  ought  to  try  and  forget  it.  But,  if  it  is  a  ques- 
tion as  to  my  veracity  in  the  matter,  I  can  only  as- 
sure you  that  Miss  Wynton's  mission  to  Switzerland 
on  behalf  of  *  The  Firefly  '  is  a  mere  blind  for  Mr. 
Spencer's  extraordinary  generosity.  He  is  acting 
through  the  paper,  it  is  true.  But  some  of 
you  must  have  seen  *  The  Firefly.'  How  could 
such  a  poor  journal  afford  to  pay  a  young  lady 
one  hundred  pounds  and  give  her  a  return 
ticket  by  the  Engadine  express  for  four  silly 
articles  on  life  in  the  High  Alps?  Why,  it  is 
ludicrous ! " 

"  Pretty  hot,  I  must  admit,"  sniggered  Georgie, 
thinking  to  make  peace  with  Beryl  Wragg;  but  she 
seemed  to  find  his  humor  not  to  her  taste. 

"  It  is  the  kind  of  arrangement  from  which  one 
290 


MILLICENT  ARMS  FOR  THE  FRAY 

draws  one's  own  conclusions,"  said  Mrs.  Vavasour 
blandly. 

"  But,  I  say,  does  Bower  know  this  ? "  asked 
Wragg,  swinging  his  eyeglasses  nervously.  Though 
he  dearly  loved  these  carpet  battles,  he  was  chary 
of  figuring  in  them,  having  been  caught  badly  more 
than  once  between  the  upper  and  nether  millstones 
of  opposing  facts. 

"  You  heard  me  tell  him,"  was  Millicent's  confi- 
dent answer.  "  If  he  requires  further  information, 
I  am  here  to  give  it  to  him.  Indeed,  I  have  delayed 
my  departure  for  that  very  reason.  By  the  way, 
General,  do  you  know  Switzerland  well?  " 

"  Every  hotel  in  the  country,"  he  boasted  proudly. 

"  I  don't  quite  mean  in  that  sense.  Who  are  the 
authorities?  For  instance,  if  I  had  a  friend  buried 
in  the  cemetery  here,  to  whom  should  I  apply  for 
identification  of  the  grave?  " 

The  General  screwed  up  his  features  into  a  ju- 
dicial frown.  "  Well — er — I  should  go  to  the  com- 
munal office  in  the  village,  if  I  were  you,"  said  he. 

Braving  his  mother's  possible  displeasure,  George 
de  Courcy  Vavasour  asserted  his  manliness  for 
Beryl's  benefit. 

"  I  know  the  right  Johnny,"  he  said.  "  Let  me 
take  you  to  him,  Miss  Jaques — Eh,  what  ?  " 

Millicent  affected  to  consider  the  proposal.  She 
saw  that  Mrs.  Vavasour  was  content.  "  It  is  very 
kind  of  you,"  she  said,  with  her  most  charming  smile. 
"  Have  we  time  to  go  there  before  lunch?  " 

291 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

"  Oh,  loads." 

"  I  am  walking  toward  the  village.  May  I  come 
with  you  ?  "  asked  Beryl  Wragg. 

"  That  will  be  too  delightful,"  said  Millicent. 

Georgie,  feeling  the  claws  beneath  the  velvet  of 
Miss  Wragg's  voice,  could  only  suffer  in  silence.  The 
three  went  out  together.  The  two  women  did  the 
talking,  and  Millicent  soon  discovered  that  Bower 
had  unquestionably  paid  court  to  Helen  from  the 
first  hour  of  his  arrival  in  the  Malo j  a,  whereas  Spen- 
cer seemed  to  be  an  utter  stranger  to  her  and  to 
every  other  person  in  the  place.  This  statement  of- 
fered a  curious  discrepancy  to  the  story  retailed  by 
Mackenzie's  assistant.  But  it  strengthened  her  case 
against  Helen.  She  grew  more  determined  than  ever 
to  go  on  to  the  bitter  end. 

A  communal  official  raised  no  difficulty  about  giv- 
ing the  name  of  the  occupant  of  the  grave  marked 
by  the  seventh  cross  from  the  tomb  she  described. 
A  child  was  buried  there,  a  boy  who  died  three  years 
ago.  With  Beryl  Wragg's  assistance,  she  cross  ex- 
amined the  man,  but  could  not  shake  his  faith  in  the 
register. 

The  parents  still  lived  in  the  village.  The  offi- 
cial knew  them,  and  remembered  the  boy  quite  well. 
He  had  contracted  a  fever,  and  died  suddenly. 

This  was  disappointing.  Millicent,  prepared  to 
hear  of  a  tragedy,  was  confronted  by  the  common- 
place. But  the  special  imp  that  attends  all  mischief 
makers  prompted  her  next  question. 

292 


MILLICENT  ARMS  FOR  THE  FRAY 

"  Do  you  know  Christian  Stampa,  the  guide?  " 
she  asked. 

The  man  grinned.  "  Yes,  signora.  He  has  been 
on  the  road  for  years,  ever  since  he  lost  his 
daughter." 

"  Was  he  any  relation  to  the  boy  ?  What  interest 
would  he  have  in  this  particular  grave?  " 

The  custodian  of  parish  records  stroked  his  chin. 
He  took  thought,  and  reached  for  another  ledger. 
He  ran  a  finger  through  an  index  and  turned  up 
a  page. 

"  A  strange  thing !  "  he  cried.  "  Why,  that  is  the 
very  place  where  Etta  Stampa  is  buried.  You  see, 
signora,"  he  explained,  "  it  is  a  small  cemetery,  and 
our  people  are  poor." 

Etta  Stampa!  Was  this  the  clew?  Millicent's 
heart  throbbed.  How  stupid  that  she  had  not 
thought  of  a  woman  earlier! 

"  How  old  was  Etta  Stampa  ?  "  she  inquired. 

"  Her  age  is  given  here  as  nineteen,  signora ;  but 
that  is  a  guess.  It  was  a  sad  case.  She  killed  her- 
self. She  came  from  Zermatt.  I  have  lived  nearly 
all  my  life  in  this  valley,  and  hers  is  the  only  suicide 
I  can  recall." 

"  Why  did  she  kill  herself,  and  when?" 

The  official  supplied  the  date;  but  he  had  no 
knowledge  of  the  affair  beyond  a  village  rumor  that 
she  had  been  crossed  in  love.  As  for  poor  old 
Stampa,  who  met  with  an  accident  about  the  same 
time,  he  never  mentioned  her. 

293 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

"  Stampa  is  the  lame  Johnny  who  went  up  the 
Forno  yesterday,"  volunteered  Georgie,  when  they 
quitted  the  office.  "  But,  I  say,  Miss  Jaques,  his 
daughter  couldn't  be  a  friend  of  yours  ?  " 

Millicent  did  not  answer.  She  was  thinking 
deeply.  Then  she  realized  that  Beryl  Wragg  was 
watching  her  intently. 

"  No,"  she  said,  "  I  did  not  mean  to  convey  that 
she  was  my  friend;  only  that  one  whom  I  know  well 
was  interested  in  her.  Can  you  tell  me  how  I  can 
find  out  more  of  her  history  ?  " 

"  Some  of  the  villagers  may  help,"  said  Miss 
Wragg.  "  Shall  we  make  inquiries  ?  It  is  marvelous 
how  one  comes  across  things  in  the  most  unlikely 
quarters." 

Vavasour,  whose  stroll  with  a  pretty  actress  had 
resolved  itself  into  a  depressing  quest  into  the  rec- 
ords of  the  local  cemetery,  looked  at  his  watch. 
"  Time's  up,"  he  announced  firmly.  "  The  luncheon 
gong  will  go  in  a  minute  or  two,  and  this  keen  air 
makes  one  peckish — Eh,  what?" 

So  Millicent  returned  to  the  hotel,  and  when  she 
entered  the  dining  room  she  saw  Helen  and  Spencer 
sitting  with  the  de  la  Veres.  Edith  de  la  Vere  stared 
at  her  in  a  particularly  irritating  way.  Cynical  con- 
tempt, bored  amusement,  even  a  quizzical  surprise 
that  such  a  vulgar  person  could  be  so  well  dressed, 
were  carried  by  wireless  telegraphy  from  the  one 
woman  to  the  other.  Millicent  countered  with  a 
studied  indifference.  She  gave  her  whole  attention 

294 


to  the  efforts  of  the  head  waiter  to  find  a  seat  to 
her  liking.  He  offered  her  the  choice  between  two. 
With  fine  self  control,  she  selected  that  which  turned 
her  back  on  Helen  and  her  friends. 

She  had  just  taken  her  place  when  Bower  came 
in.  He  stopped  near  the  door,  and  spoke  to  an 
under  manager;  but  his  glance  swept  the  crowded 
room.  Spencer  and  Helen  happened  to  be  almost 
facing  him,  and  the  girl  was  listening  with  a  smile 
to  something  the  American  was  saying.  But  there 
was  a  conscious  shyness  in  her  eyes,  a  touch  of  color 
on  her  sun  browned  face,  that  revealed  more  than 
she  imagined. 

Bower,  who  looked  ill  and  old,  hesitated  per- 
ceptibly. Then  he  seemed  to  reach  some  decision. 
He  walked  to  Helen's  side,  and  bent  over  her  with 
courteous  solicitude.  "  I  hope  that  I  am  forgiven," 
he  said. 

She  started.  She  was  so  absorbed  in  Spencer's 
talk,  which  dealt  with  nothing  more  noteworthy  than 
the  excursion  down  the  Vale  of  Bregaglia,  which  he 
secretly  hoped  would  be  postponed,  that  she  had  not 
observed  Bower's  approach. 

"Forgiven,  Mr.  Bower?  For  what?"  she  asked, 
blushing  now  for  no  assignable  reason. 

"  For  yesterday's  fright,  and  its  sequel." 

"  But  I  enjoyed  it  thoroughly.  Please  don't  think 
I  am  only  a  fair  weather  mountaineer." 

"  No.  I  am  not  likely  to  commit  that  mistake. 
It  was  feminine  spite,  not  elemental,  that  I  fancied 

295 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

might  have  troubled  you.  Now  I  am  going  to  face 
the  enemy  alone.  Pity  me,  and  please  drink  to  my 
success." 

He  favored  Spencer  and  the  de  la  Veres  with  a 
comprehensive  nod,  and  turned  away,  well  satisfied 
that  he  had  claimed  a  condition  of  confidence,  of 
mutual  trust,  between  Helen  and  himself. 

Millicent  was  reading  the  menu  when  she  heard 
Bower's  voice  at  her  shoulder.  "  Good  morning, 
Millicent,"  he  said.  "  Shall  we  declare  a  truce?  May 
I  eat  at  your  table?  That,  at  least,  will  be  original. 
Picture  the  amazement  of  the  mob  if  the  lion  and 
the  lamb  split  a  small  bottle." 

He  was  bold;  but  chance  had  fenced  her  with 
triple  brass.  "  I  really  don't  feel  inclined  to  for- 
give you,"  she  said,  with  a  quite  forgiving  smile. 

He  sat  down.  The  two  were  watched  with  discreet 
stupefaction  by  many. 

"  Never  give  rein  to  your  emotions,  Millicent. 
You  did  so  last  night,  and  blundered  badly  in  conse- 
quence. Artifice  is  the  truest  art,  you  know.  Let 
us,  then,  be  unreal,  and  act  as  though  we  were  the 
dearest  friends." 

"  We  are,  I  imagine.  Self  interest  should  keep  us 
solid." 

Bower  affected  a  momentary  absorption  in  the  wine 
list.  He  gave  his  order,  and  the  waiter  left  them. 

"  Now,  I  want  you  to  be  good,"  he  said.  "  Put 
your  cards  on  the  table,  and  I  will  do  the  same.  Let 
us  discuss  matters  without  prejudice,  as  the  lawyers 

296 


MILLICENT  ARMS  FOR  THE  FRAY 

say.  And,  in  the  first  instance,  tell  me  exactly  what 
you  imply  by  the  statement  that  Mr.  Charles  K. 
Spencer,  of  Denver,  Colorado,  as  he  appears  in  the 
hotel  register,  is  responsible  for  Helen  Wynton's 
presence  here  to-day." 


297 


CHAPTER  XV 

A  COWARD'S  VICTORY 

"  IT  is  a  queer  story,"  said  Bower. 

"  Because  it  is  true,"  retorted  Millicent. 

"  Yet  she  never  set  eyes  on  the  man  until  she  met 
him  here." 

"  That  is  rather  impossible,  isn't  it  ?  " 

"  It  is  a  fact,  nevertheless.  On  the  day  I  arrived 
in  Maloja,  a  letter  came  from  the  editor  of  *  The 
Firefly,'  telling  her  that  he  had  written  to  Spencer, 
whom  he  knew,  and  suggested  that  they  should  be- 
come acquainted." 

"  These  things  are  easily  managed,"  said  Milli- 
cent airily. 

"  I  accept  Miss  Wynton's  version."  Bower  spoke 
with  brutal  frankness.  The  morning's  tribulation 
had  worn  away  some  of  the  veneer.  He  fully  ex- 
pected the  girl  to  flare  into  ill  suppressed  rage.  Then 
he  could  deal  with  her  as  he  liked.  He  had  not 

298 


A  COWARD'S  VICTORY 

earned  his  repute  in  the  city  of  London  without  re- 
vealing at  times  the  innate  savagery  of  his  nature. 
As  soon  as  he  had  taunted  his  adversaries  into  a 
passion,  he  found  the  weak  joints  in  their  armor. 
He  was  surprised  now  that  Millicent  should  laugh. 
If  she  was  acting,  she  was  acting  well. 

"  It  is  too  funny  for  words  to  see  you  playing 
the  trustful  swain,"  she  said. 

"  One  necessarily  believes  the  best  of  one's  future 
wife." 

"  So  you  still  keep  up  that  pretense?  It  was  a 
good  line  in  last  night's  situation ;  but  it  becomes 
farcical  when  applied  to  light  comedy." 

"  I  give  you  credit  for  sufficient  wit  to  understand 
why  I  joined  you  here.  We  can  avoid  unpleasant 
explanations.  I  am  prepared  to  bury  the  hatchet — 
on  terms." 

"Terms?" 

"  Yes.  You  are  a  blackmailer,  a  somewhat  dan- 
gerous one.  You  tempt  me  to  revise  the  wisest  of 
La  Rochefoucauld's  maxims,  and  say  that  every 
woman  is  at  heart  a  snake.  You  owe  everything  to 
me ;  yet  you  are  not  content.  Without  my  help  you 
would  still  be  carrying  a  banner  in  the  chorus.  Un- 
less I  continue  my  patronage,  that  is  what  you  must 
go  back  to.  Don't  imagine  that  I  am  treating  with 
you  out  of  sentiment.  For  Helen's  sake,  for  her 
sake  only,  I  offer  a  settlement." 

Millicent's  eyes  narrowed  a  little ;  but  she  affected 
to  admire  the  gleaming  beads  in  a  glass  of  cham- 

299 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

pagne.  "  Pray  continue,"  she  said.  "  Your  views 
are  interesting." 

There  was  some  danger  lest  Bower  should  re- 
verse his  wonted  procedure,  and  lose  his  own  temper 
in  this  unequal  duel.  They  both  spoke  in  low  tones. 
Anyone  watching  them  would  find  the  smiles  of  con- 
ventionality on  their  lips.  To  all  outward  seeming, 
they  were  indulging  in  a  friendly  gossip. 

"  Of  course,  you  want  money,"  he  said.  "  That 
is  the  be-all  and  end-all  of  your  existence.  Very 
well.  Write  a  letter  to  Miss  Wynton  apologizing  for 
your  conduct,  take  yourself  away  from  here  at  three 
o'clock,  and  from  St.  Moritz  by  the  next  train,  and 
I  not  only  withdraw  my  threat  to  bar  you  in  the 
profession  but  shall  hand  you  a  check  for  a  thou- 
sand pounds." 

Millicent  pretended  to  consider  his  proposal.  She 
shook  her  head.  "  Not  nearly  enough,"  she  said, 
with  a  sweetly  deprecatory  moue. 

"  It  is  all  you  will  get.  I  repeat  that  I  am  doing 
this  to  spare  Helen's  feelings.  Perhaps  I  am  ill 
advised.  You  have  done  your  worst  already,  and 
it  only  remains  for  me  to  crush  you.  But  I  stick  to 
the  bargain — for  five  minutes." 

"  Dear,  dear !  "  she  sighed.  "  Only  five  minutes  ? 
Do  you  get  rid  of  your  troubles  so  quickly?  How 
nice  to  be  a  man,  and  to  be  able  to  settle  matters 
with  such  promptitude." 

Bower  was  undeniably  perplexed;  but  he  held  to 
his  line.  Unwavering  tenacity  of  purpose  was  his 

300 


A  COWARD'S  VICTORY 

chief  characteristic.  "  Meanwhile,"  he  said,  "  let  UB 
talk  of  the  weather." 

"  A  most  seasonable  topic.  It  was  altogether 
novel  this  morning  to  wake  and  find  the  world  cov- 
ered with  snow." 

"  If  the  Maloja  is  your  world,  you  must  have 
thought  it  rather  chilling,"  he  laughed. 

"  Yes,  cold,  perhaps,  but  fascinating.  I  went  for 
a  walk.  You  see,  I  wanted  to  be  alone,  to  think  what 
I  should  do  for  the  best.  A  woman  is  so  helpless 
when  she  has  to  fight  a  big,  strong  man  like  you. 
Chance  led  me  to  the  cemetery.  What  an  odd  little 
place  it  is?  Wouldn't  you  hate  to  be  buried  there?  " 

It  was  now  Millicent's  turn  to  be  surprised.  Not 
by  the  slightest  tremor  did  Bower  betray  the  shock 
caused  by  her  innuendo.  His  nerves  were  proof 
against  further  assault  that  day.  Fear  had  con- 
quered him  for  an  instant  when  he  looked  into  the 
gate  of  darkness.  With  its  passing  from  before  his 
eyes,  his  intellect  resumed  its  sway,  and  he  weighed 
events  by  that  nicely  adjusted  balance.  None  but  a 
man  who  greatly  dared  would  be  sitting  opposite 
Millicent  at  that  moment.  None  but  a  fool  would 
have  failed  to  understand  her.  But  he  gave  no  sign 
that  he  understood.  He  refilled  his  glass,  and  emp- 
tied it  with  the  gusto  of  a  connoisseur. 

"  That  is  a  good  wine,"  he  said.  "  Sometimes 
pints  are  better  than  quarts,  although  of  the  same 
vintage.  Waiter,  another  half  bottle,  please." 

"  No  more  for  me,  of  course,"  murmured  Milli- 
301 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

cent.     "  I  must  keep  my  head  clear, — so  much  de- 
pends on  the  next  five  minutes." 

"  Three,  to  be  exact." 

"  Ah,  then,  I  must  use  them  to  advantage.  Shall 
I  tell  you  more  about  my  early  stroll?  " 

"  What  time  did  you  go  out  ?  " 

"  Soon  after  ten  o'clock." 

"  You  saw — what  ?  " 

"  A  most  exciting  struggle — and — what  shall  I 
call  it? — a  ceremony." 

Bower  was  silent  for  an  appreciable  time.  He 
watched  a  waiter  uncorking  the  champagne.  When 
the  bottle  was  placed  on  the  table  he  pretended  to 
read  the  label.  He  was  thinking  that  Stampa's  mar- 
riage service  was  not  so  futile,  after  all.  It  had  soon 
erected  its  first  barrier.  Millicent,  who  had  quali- 
ties rare  in  a  woman,  turned  and  looked  at  a  clock. 
Incidentally,  she  discovered  that  Spencer  was  devot- 
ing some  attention  to  the  proceedings  at  her  table. 
Still  Bower  remained  silent.  She  stole  a  glance  at 
him.  She  was  conscious  that  an  abiding  dread  was 
stealing  into  her  heart;  but  her  stage  training  came 
to  her  aid,  and  she  managed  to  say  evenly: 

"  My  little  ramble  does  not  appear  to  interest 
you?" 

"  It  does,"  he  said.  "  I  have  been  arguing  the 
pros  and  cons  of  a  ticklish  problem.  There  are  two 
courses  to  me.  I  can  either  bribe  you,  or  leave  you 
to  your  own  devices.  The  latter  method  implies  the 
interference  of  the  police.  I  dislike  that.  Helen 

302 


A  COWARD'S  VICTORY 

would  certainly  be  opposed  to  it.  I  make  the  one 
thousand  into  five;  but  I  want  your  answer  now." 

"  I  accept,"  she  said  instantly. 

"  Ah,  but  you  are  trembling.  Queer,  isn't  it,  how 
thin  is  the  partition  between  affluence  and  a  prison? 
There  are  dozens  of  men  who  stand  high  in  com- 
mercial circles  in  London  who  ought  to  be  in  jail. 
There  are  quite  as  many  convicts  in  Portland  who 
reached  penal  servitude  along  precisely  the  same 
road.  That  is  the  penalty  of  being  found  out.  Let 
me  congratulate  you.  And  do  try  another  glass 
of  this  excellent  wine.  You  need  it,  and  you  have 
to  pack  your  belongings  at  once,  you  know." 

"  Thank  you." 

Her  eyes  sparkled.  Her  well  modulated  voice  was 
hardly  under  control.  Five  thousand  pounds  was  a 
great  deal  of  money;  but  the  tragedy  of  Etta 
Stampa's  life  might  have  been  worth  more.  How 
could  she  find  out  the  whole  truth?  She  must  ac- 
complish that,  in  some  way. 

Therein,  however,  she  greatly  miscalculated. 
Bower  divined  her  thought  almost  before  it  was 
formed.  "  For  goodness'  sake,  let  us  put  things  in 
plain  English !  "  he  said.  "  I  am  paying  you  hand- 
somely to  save  the  woman  I  am  going  to  marry  from 
some  little  suffering  and  heartache.  Perhaps  it  is 
unnecessary.  Her  fine  nature  might  forgive  a  man 
a  transgression  of  his  youth.  At  any  rate,  I  avert 
the  risk  by  this  payment.  The  check  will  be  pa}rable 
to  you  personally.  In  other  words,  you  must  place 

303 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

it  to  your  own  account  in  your  bank.  Any  breach 
of  our  contract  in  letter  or  spirit  during  the  next 
two  days  will  be  punished  by  its  stoppage.  After 
that  time,  the  remotest  hint  on  your  part  of  any 
scandalous  knowledge  affecting  me,  or  Helen,  or  the 
causes  which  led  to  my  present  weakness  in  allowing 
you  to  blackmail  me,  will  imply  the  immediate  issue 
of  a  warrant  for  your  arrest.  Need  I  explain  the 
position  at  greater  length?  " 

"  No,"  said  Millicent,  who  wished  now  that  she 
had  bitten  off  the  end  of  her  tongue  before  she  vented 
her  spleen  to  the  Vavasours  and  the  Wraggs. 

"  On  second  thoughts,"  went  on  Bower  uncon- 
cernedly, "  I  forego  the  stipulation  as  to  a  letter  of 
apology.  I  don't  suppose  Helen  will  value  it.  As- 
suredly, I  do  not." 

The  cheapening  of  her  surrender  stung  more  than 
she  counted  on.  "  I  have  tried  to  avoid  the  appear- 
ance of  uncalled  for  rudeness  to-day,"  she  blurted 
out. 

"  Well — yes.  What  is  the  number  of  your 
room?  " 

She  told  him. 

"  I  shall  send  the  check  to  you  at  once.  Have 
you  finished?  " 

He  accompanied  her  to  the  door,  bowed  her  out, 
and  came  back.  Smiling  affably,  he  pulled  a  chair 
to  Mrs.  de  la  Vere's  side. 

**  I  quite  enjoyed  my  luncheon,"  he  said.  "  You 
all  heard  that  stupid  outburst  of  Millicent's  last 

304 


A  COWARD'S  VICTORY 

night;  so  there  is  no  harm  in  telling  you  that  she 
regrets  it.  She  is  leaving  the  hotel  forthwith." 

Helen  rose  suddenly.  "  She  is  one  lof  my  few- 
friends,"  she  said.  "  I  cannot  let  her  go  in  anger." 

"  She  is  unworthy  of  your  friendship,"  exclaimed 
Bower  sharply.  "  Take  my  advice  and  forget  that 
she  exists." 

"  You  cannot  forget  that  anyone  exists,  or  has 
existed,"  said  Spencer  quietly. 

"What?  You  too?"  said  Bower.  His  eyes 
sought  the  American's,  and  flashed  an  unspoken  chal- 
lenge. 

He  felt  that  the  world  was  a  few  hundred  years 
too  old.  There  were  historical  precedents  for  set- 
tling affairs  such  as  that  now  troubling  him  by  means 
that  would  have  appealed  to  him.  But  he  opposed 
no  further  hindrance  to  Helen's  departure.  Indeed, 
he  perceived  that  her  meeting  with  Millicent  would 
provide  in  some  sense  a  test  of  his  own  judgment. 
He  would  soon  learn  whether  or  not  money  would 
prevail. 

He  waited  a  little  while,  and  then  sent  his  valet 
with  the  check  and  a  request  for  an  acknowledg- 
ment. The  man  brought  him  a  scribbled  note : 

"Was  rather  taken  aback  by  appearance  of  H.  She  says  yon 
told  her  I  was  leaving  the  hotel.  We  fell  on  each  other's  neck 
and  wept.  Is  that  right  ?  M.  J." 

He  cut  the  end  off  a  cigar,  lit  the  paper  with  a 
match,  and  lit  the  cigar  with  the  paper. 

305 


t 

THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

"  Five  thousand  pounds !  "  he  said  to  himself.  "  It 
is  a  lot  of  money  to  one  who  has  none.  I  remember 
the  time  when  I  would  have  sold  my  soul  to  the 
devil  for  half  the  amount." 

But  that  was  not  a  pleasing  notion.  It  suggested 
that,  by  evil  hazard,  some  such  contract  had,  in  fact, 
been  made,  but  forgotten  by  one  of  the  parties  to 
it.  So  he  dismissed  it.  Having  disposed  of  Stampa 
and  Millicent,  practically  between  breakfast  and 
lunch,  there  were  no  reasons  why  he  should  trouble 
further  about  them.  The  American  threatened  a 
fresh  obstacle.  He  was  winning  his  way  with  Helen 
altogether  too  rapidly.  In  the  light  of  those  om- 
inous words  at  the  luncheon  table  his  close  associa- 
tion with  Stampa  indicated  a  definite  knowledge  of 
the  past.  Curse  him !  Why  did  he  interfere  ? 

Bower  was  eminently  a  selfish  man.  He  had  en- 
joyed unchecked  success  for  so  long  a  time  that  he 
railed  now  at  the  series  of  mischances  that  tripped 
the  feet  of  his  desires.  Looking  back  through  re- 
cent days,  he  was  astonished  to  find  how  often  Spen- 
cer had  crossed  his  path.  Before  he  was  four  hours 
in  Maloja,  Helen,  in  his  hearing,  had  singled  out 
the  American  for  conjecture  and  scrutiny.  Then 
Dunston  spoke  of  the  same  man  as  an  eager  ad- 
versary at  baccarat;  but  the  promised  game  was 
arranged  without  Spencer's  cooperation,  greatly  to 
Dunston's  loss.  A  man  did  not  act  in  such  fashion 
without  some  motive.  What  was  it?  This  reserved, 
somewhat  contemptuous  rival  had  also  snatched 

306 


A  COWARD'S  VICTORY 

Helen  from  his  company  many  times.  He  had  un- 
doubtedly rendered  some  service  in  coming  to  the 
Forno  hut;  but  Bower's  own  lapse  from  sanity  on 
that  occasion  did  not  escape  his  notice.  Finally,  this 
cool  mannered,  alert  youngster  from  the  New  World 
did  not  seem  to  care  a  fig  for  any  prior  claim  on 
Helen's  affections.  His  whole  attitude  might  be  ex- 
plained by  the  fact  that  he  was  Stampa's  employer, 
and  had  won  the  old  guide's  confidence. 

Yes,  the  American  was  the  real  danger.  That  pale 
ghost  conjured  from  the  grave  by  Stampa  was  in- 
tangible, powerless,  a  dreamlike  wraith  evoked  by  a 
madman's  fancy.  Already  the  fear  engendered 
myopia  of  the  morning  was  passing  from  Bower's 
eyes.  The  passage  of  arms  with  Millicent  had  done 
him  good.  He  saw  now  that  if  he  meant  to  win 
Helen  he  must  fight  for  her. 

Glancing  at  his  watch,  he  found  that  the  time  was 
a  quarter  to  three.  He  opened  a  window  in  his  sit- 
ting room,  which  was  situated  in  the  front  of  the 
hotel.  By  leaning  out  he  could  survey  the  carriage 
stand  at  the  foot  of  the  long  flight  of  steps.  A 
pair-horse  vehicle  was  drawn  up  there,  and  men  were 
fastening  portly  dress  baskets  in  the  baggage  car- 
rier over  the  hind  wheels. . 

He  smiled.  "  The  pretty  dancer  travels  luxuri- 
ously," he  thought.  "  I  wonder  whether  she  will  be 
honest  enough  to  pay  her  debts  with  my  money  ?  " 

He  still  hated  her  for  having  dragged  him  into 
a  public  squabble.  He  looked  to  the  future  to  re- 

307 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

quite  him.  A  year,  two  years,  would  soon  pass. 
Then,  when  funds  were  low  and  engagements  scarce, 
she  would  appeal  to  him  again,  and  his  solicitors 
would  reply.  He  caught  himself  framing  curt, 
stinging  sentences  to  be  embodied  in  the  letter;  but 
he  drew  himself  up  with  a  start.  Surely  there  was 
something  very  wrong  with  Mark  Bower,  the  mil- 
lionaire, when  he  gloated  over  such  paltry  details. 
Why,  his  reflections  were  worthy  of  that  old  spit- 
fire, Mrs.  de  Courcy  Vavasour. 

His  cigar  had  gone  out.  He  threw  it  away.  It 
had  the  taste  of  Millicent's  cheap  passion.  A  de- 
canter of  brandy  stood  on  the  table,  and  he  drank 
a  small  quantity,  though  he  had  imbibed  freely  of 
champagne  at  luncheon.  He  glanced  at  a  mirror. 
His  face  was  flushed  and  care  lined,  and  he  scowled 
at  his  own  apparition. 

"  I  must  go  and  see  the  last  of  Millicent.  It  will 
cheer  me  up,"  he  said  to  himself. 

When  he  entered  the  foyer,  Millicent  was  already 
in  the  veranda,  a  dainty  picture  in  furs  and  feathers. 
Somewhat  to  his  surprise,  Helen  was  with  her.  A 
good  many  people  were  watching  them  covertly,  a 
quite  natural  proceeding  in  view  of  their  strained 
relations  overnight. 

Millicent's  first  action  after  quitting  the  salle  a 
'manger  had  been  to  worm  out  of  Leontine  the  full, 
true,  and  particular  history  of  Etta  Stampa,  or  so 
much  of  the  story  as  was  known  to  the  hotel  serv- 
ants. The  recital  was  cut  short  by  Helen's  visit, 

308 


It  will  paralyze  the  dowager  brigade  if  we  hug  each  other." 


Page  309 


A  COWARD'S  VICTORY 

but  resumed  during  packing  operations,  as  Millicent 
had  enlarged  her  store  of  knowledge  considerably 
during  the  process  of  reconciliation. 

So,  alive  to  possibilities  going  far  beyond  a  singie 
check,  even  for  five  thousand  pounds,  at  the  last  mo- 
ment she  sent  a  message  to  Helen. 

"  Come  and  see  me  off,"  she  wrote.  "  It  will  simply  paralyze 
the  dowager  brigade  if  we  hug  each  other  on  the  mat." 

Helen  agreed.  She  was  not  sorry  that  her  critics 
should  be  paralyzed,  or  stupefied,  or  rendered  inca- 
pable in  some  way  of  inflicting  further  annoyance. 
In  her  present  radiant  mood,  nearly  all  her  troubles 
having  taken  unto  themselves  wings,  she  looked  OR 
yesterday's  episode  in  the  light  of  a  rather  far 
fetched  joke.  Bower  stood  so  high  in  her  esteem 
that  she  was  sure  the  outspoken  announcement  of  his 
intentions  was  dictated  chiefly  by  anger  at  Milli- 
cent's  unfair  utterances.  Perhaps  he  had  some 
thought  of  marriage ;  but  he  must  seek  a  wife  in  a 
more  exalted  sphere.  She  felt  in  her  heart  that  Spen- 
cer was  only  awaiting  a  favorable  opportunity  to 
declare  his  love,  and  she  did  not  strive  to  repress 
the  wave  of  divine  happiness  that  flooded  her  heart 
at  the  thought. 

After  much  secret  pondering  and  some  shy  confi- 
dences intrusted  to  Mrs.  de  la  Vere,  she  had  resolved 
to  tell  him  that  if  he  left  the  Maloja  at  once — an 
elastic  phrase  in  lovers'  language — and  came  to  her 

309 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

in  London  next  month,  she  would  have  an  answer 
ready.  She  persuaded  herself  that  there  was  no 
other  honorable  way  out  of  an  embarrassing  posi- 
tion. She  had  come  to  Switzerland  for  work,  not 
for  love  making.  Spencer  would  probably  wish  to 
marry  her  forthwith,  and  that  was  not  to  be  thought 
of  while  "  The  Firefly's  "  commission  was  only  half 
completed.  All  of  which  modest  and  maidenly  rea- 
soning left  wholly  out  of  account  Spencer's  strenu- 
ous wooing;  it  is  chronicled  here  merely  to  show  her 
state  of  mind  when  she  kissed  Millicent  farewell. 

It  is  worthy  of  note  also  that  two  young  people 
who  might  be  expected  to  take  the  liveliest  interest 
in  each  other's  company  were  steadfast  in  their  de- 
termination to  separate.  Each  meant  to  send  the 
other  back  to  England  with  the  least  possible  delay, 
and  both  were  eager  to  fly  into  each  other's  arms — 
in  London !  Whereat  the  gods  may  have  laughed, 
or  frowned,  as  the  case  may  be,  if  they  glanced  at 
the  horoscopes  of  certain  mortals  pent  within  the 
mountain  walls  of  the  Upper  Engadine. 

While  Helen  was  still  gazing  after  Millicent's  re- 
treating carriage,  Bower  came  from  the  darksome 
foyer  to  the  sunlit  veranda.  "  So  you  parted  the 
best  of  friends  ?  "  he  said  quietly. 

She  turned  and  looked  at  him  with  shining  eyes. 
"  I  cannot  tell  you  how  pleased  I  am  that  a  stupid 
misunderstanding  should  be  cleared  away ! "  she 
said. 

"  Then  I  share  your  pleasure,  though,  to  be  can- 
310 


A  COWARD'S  VICTORY 

did,  I  was  thinking  that  a  woman's  kiss  has  infinite 
gradations.  It  may  savor  of  Paradise  or  the  Dead 
Sea." 

"  But  she  told  me  how  grieved  she  was  that  she 
had  behaved  so  foolishly,  and  appealed  to  me  not 
to  let  the  folly  of  a  day  break  the  friendship  of 
years." 

"  Ah !  Millicent  picks  up  some  well  turned  senti- 
ments on  the  stage.  Come  out  for  a  little  stroll, 
and  tell  me  all  about  it." 

Helen  hesitated.  "  It  will  soon  be  tea  time,"  she 
said,  with  a  self  conscious  blush.  She  had  promised 
Spencer  to  walk  with  him  to  the  chateau;  but  her 
visit  to  Millicent  had  intervened,  and  he  was  not  on 
the  veranda  at  the  moment. 

"  We  need  not  go  far.  The  sun  has  garnished 
the  roads  for  us.  What  do  you  say  if  we  make  for 
the  village,  and  interview  Johann  Klucker's  cat  on 
the  weather?  " 

His  tone  was  quite  reassuring.  To  her  transpar- 
ent honesty  of  purpose  it  seemed  better  that  they 
should  discuss  Millicent's  motive  in  coming  to  the 
hotel  and  then  dismiss  it  for  ever.  "  A  most  excel- 
lent idea,"  she  cried  lightly.  "  I  have  been  writing 
all  the  morning,  so  a  breath  of  fresh  air  will  be 
grateful." 

They  passed  down  the  steps. 

They  had  not  gone  more  than  a  few  paces  when 
the  driver  of  an  empty  carriage  pulled  up  his  vehi- 
cle and  handed  Bower  a  telegram. 

311 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

"  They  gave  it  to  me  at  St.  Moritz,  Herr  Bower," 
he  said.  "  I  took  a  message  there  for  Herr  Spencer, 
and  they  asked  me  to  bring  this  to  you,  as  it  would 
reach  you  more  quickly  than  if  it  came  by  the  post." 

Bower  thanked  the  man,  and  opened  the  envelop. 
It  was  a  very  long  telegram ;  but  he  only  glanced  at 
it  in  the  most  cursory  manner  before  putting  it  in 
a  pocket. 

At  a  distant  corner  of  the  road  by  the  side  of 
the  lake,  Millicent  turned  for  a  last  look  at  the 
hotel  and  waved  a  hand  at  them.  Helen  replied. 

"  I  almost  wish  now  she  was  staying  here  a  few 
days,"  she  said  wistfully.  "  She  ought  to  have  seen 
our  valley  in  its  summer  greenery." 

"  I  fear  she  brought  winter  in  her  train,"  was 
Bower's  comment.  "  But  the  famous  cat  must  de- 
cide. Here,  boy,"  he  went  on,  hailing  a  village 
urchin,  "where  is  Johann  Klucker's  house?" 

The  boy  pointed  to  a  track  that  ran  close  to  the 
right  bank  of  the  tiny  Inn.  He  explained  volubly, 
and  was  rewarded  with  a  franc. 

"Do  you  know  this  path?"  asked  Bower. 
"  Klucker's  chalet  is  near  the  waterfall,  which  should 
be  a  fine  sight  owing  to  the  melting  snow." 

It  was  Helen's  favorite  walk.  She  would  have  pre- 
ferred a  more  frequented  route;  but  the  group  of 
houses  described  by  the  boy  was  quite  near,  and  she 
could  devise  no  excuse  for  keeping  to  the  busy  high- 
way. As  the  path  was  narrow  she  walked  in  front. 
The  grass  and  flowers  seemed  to  have  drawn  fresh 

312 


tints  from  the  snow,  which  had  cleared  away  with 
magical  rapidity  from  this  sheltered  spot.  But  the 
little  rivulet,  usually  diamond  bright,  was  now  a  tur- 
bulent and  foaming  stream.  Care  was  needed  not 
to  slip.  If  anyone  fell  into  that  miniature  torrent, 
it  would  be  no  easy  matter  to  escape  without  broken 
bones. 

"  Would  you  ever  believe  that  a  few  hours'  snow, 
followed  by  a  hot  sun,  would  make  such  a  differ- 
ence to  a  mere  ribbon  of  water  like  this  ?  "  she  asked, 
when  they  were  passing  through  a  narrow  cleft  in  a 
wall  of  rock  through  which  the  Inn  roared  with  a 
quite  respectable  fury. 

"  I  am  in  a  mood  to  believe  anything,"  said 
Bower.  "  Do  you  remember  our  first  meeting  at  the 
Embankment  Hotel  ?  Who  would  have  imagined  then 
that  Millicent  Jaques,  a  few  weeks  later,  would  rush 
a  thousand  miles  to  the  Maloja  and  scream  her  woes 
to  Heaven  and  the  multitude.  Neither  you  nor  I, 
I  fancy,  had  seen  her  during  the  interval.  Did  she 
tell  you  the  cause  of  her  extraordinary  behavior  ?  " 

"  No.  I  did  not  ask  her.  But  it  scarce  needed 
explanation,  Mr.  Bower.  I — I  fear  she  suspected  me 
of  flirting.  It  was  unjust;  but  I  can  well  conceive 
that  a  woman  who  thinks  her  friend  is  robbing  her 
of  a  man's  affections  does  not  wait  to  consider  nice 
points  of  procedure." 

"  Surely  Millicent  did  not  say  that  I  had  prom- 
ised to  marry  her?  " 

Though  Helen  was  not  prepared  for  this  down- 
313 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

right  plunge  into  an  embarrassing  discussion,  she 
managed  to  evade  a  direct  answer.  "  There  was 
more  than  a  suggestion  of  that  in  her  words  last 
night,"  she  said.  "  Perhaps  she  thought  so  in  all 
seriousness.  You  seem  to  have  undeceived  her  to- 
day, and  I  am  sure  you  must  have  dealt  with  her 
kindly,  or  she  would  not  have  acknowledged  her  mis- 
take in  such  frank  terms  to  me.  There,  now !  That 
is  the  end  of  a  very  disagreeable  episode.  Shall  we 
say  no  more  about  it?" 

Helen  was  flushed  and  hurried  of  speech :  but  she 
persevered  bravely,  hoping  that  Bower's  tact  would 
not  desert  him  at  this  crisis.  She  quickened  her  pace 
a  little,  with  the  air  of  one  who  has  said  the  last 
word  on  a  difficult  topic  and  is  anxious  to  forget  it. 

Bower  overtook  her.  He  grasped  her  shoulder 
almost  roughly,  and  drew  her  round  till  she  faced 
him.  "  You  are  trying  to  escape  me,  Helen ! "  he 
said  hoarsely.  "  That  is  impossible.  Someone  must 
have  told  you  what  I  said  to  Millicent  in  the  hearing 
of  all  who  chose  to  listen.  Her  amazing  outburst 
forced  from  me  an  avowal  that  should  have  been 
made  to  you  alone.  Helen,  I  want  you  to  be  my  wife. 
I  love  you  better  than  all  the  world.  I  have  my 
faults, — what  man  is  flawless? — but  I  have  the  abid- 
ing virtue  of  loving  you.  I  shall  make  your  life 
happy,  Helen.  For  God's  sake  do  not  tell  me  that 
you  are  already  promised  to  another ! " 

His  eyes  blazed  into  hers  with  a  passion  that  was 
appalling  in  its  intensity.  She  seemed  to  lose  the 


A  COWARD'S  VICTORY 

power  to  speak  or  move.  She  looked  up  at  him  like 
a  frightened  child,  who  hears  strange  words  that 
she  does  not  comprehend.  Thinking  he  had  won  her, 
he  threw  his  arms  about  her  and  strained  her  fiercely 
to  his  breast.  He  strove  to  kiss  away  the  tears  that 
began  to  fall  in  piteous  protest;  but  she  bent  her 
head  as  if  in  shame. 

"  Oh,  please  let  me  go  !  "  she  sobbed.  "  Please 
let  me  go !  What  have  I  done  that  you  should  treat 
me  so  cruelly." 

"  Cruelly,  Helen?  How  should  I  be  cruel  to  you 
whom  I  hold  so  dear?" 

Still  he  clasped  her  tightly,  hardly  knowing  what 
he  did  in  his  transport  of  joy  at  the  belief  that  she 
was  his. 

She  struggled  to  free  herself.  She  shrank  from 
this  physical  contact  with  a  strange  repulsion.  She 
felt  as  a  timid  animal  must  feel  when  some  lord  of 
the  jungle  pulls  it  down  and  drags  it  to  his  lair. 
Bower  was  kissing  her  cheeks,  her  forehead,  her  hair, 
finding  a  mad  rapture  in  the  fragrance  of  her  skin. 
He  crushed  her  in  a  close  embrace  that  was  almost 
suffocating. 

"  Oh,  please  let  me  go ! "  she  wailed.  "  You 
frighten  me.  Let  me  go !  How  dare  you !  " 

She  fought  so  wildly  that  he  yielded  to  a  dim 
sense  that  she  was  in  earnest.  He  relaxed  his  grip. 
With  the  instinct  of  a  hunted  thing,  she  took  a  dan- 
gerous leap  for  safety  clean  across  the  swollen  Inn. 
Luckily  she  alighted  on  a  broad  boulder,  or  a  sprained 

315 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

ankle  would  have  been  the  least  penalty  for  that 
desperate  means  of  escape. 

As  she  stood  there,  with  tears  streaming  down  her 
face  and  the  crimson  brand  of  angry  terror  on  her 
brow,  the  dreadful  knowledge  that  he  had  lost  her 
smote  Bower  like  a  rush  of  cold  air  from  a  newly 
opened  tomb.  Between  them  brawled  the  tiny  tor- 
rent. It  offered  no  bar  to  an  active  man;  but  even 
in  his  panic  of  sudden  perception  he  resisted  the 
impulse  that  bade  him  follow. 

"  Helen,"  he  pleaded,  stretching  forth  his  hands 
in  frenzied  gesture,  "  why  do  you  cast  me  off?  I 
swear  by  all  a  man  holds  sacred  that  I  mean  no 
wrong.  You  are  dear  to  me  as  life  itself.  Ah, 
Helen,  say  that  I  may  hope!  I  do  not  even  ask  for 
your  love.  I  shall  win  that  by  a  lifetime  of 
devotion." 

At  last  she  found  utterance.  He  had  alarmed  her 
greatly;  but  no  woman  can  feel  it  an  outrage  that 
a  man  should  avow  his  longing.  And  she  pitied 
Bower  with  a  great  pity.  Deep  down  in  her  heart 
was  a  suspicion  that  they  might  have  been  happy 
together  had  they  met  sooner.  She  would  never  have 
loved  him, — she  knew  that  now  beyond  cavil, — but 
if  they  were  married  she  must  have  striven  to  make 
life  pleasant  for  him,  while  she  drifted  down  the 
smooth  stream  of  existence  free  from  either  abiding 
joys  or  carking  sorrows. 

"  I  am  more  grieved  than  I  can  tell  that  this 
should  have  happened,"  she  said,  striving  hard  to 

316 


A  COWARD'S  VICTORY 

restrain  the  sob  in  her  voice,  though  it  gave  her 
words  the  ring  of  genuine  regret.  "  I  little  dreamed 
that  you  thought  of  me  in  that  way,  Mr.  Bower. 
But  I  can  never  marry  you — never,  no  matter  what 
the  circumstances !  Surely  you  will  help  me  to  dis- 
pel the  memory  of  a  foolish  moment.  It  has  been 
trying  to  both  of  us.  Let  us  pretend  that  it  never 
was." 

Had  she  struck  him  with  a  whip  he  could  not  have 
flinched  so  visibly  beneath  the  lash  as  from  the 
patent  honesty  of  her  words.  For  a  time  he  did  not 
answer,  and  the  sudden  calm  that  came  quick  on  the 
heels  of  frenzy  had  in  it  a  weird  peacefulness. 

Neither  could  ever  again  forget  the  noisy  rush 
of  the  stream,  the  glad  singing  of  birds  in  a  thicket 
overhanging  the  bank,  the  tinkle  of  the  cow  bells 
as  the  cattle  began  to  climb  to  the  pastures  for  a 
luxurious  hour  ere  sundown.  It  was  typical  of  their 
lives  that  they  should  be  divided  by  the  infant  Inn, 
almost  at  its  source,  and  that  thenceforth  the  bar- 
rier should  become  ever  wider  and  deeper  till  it 
reached  the  infinite  sea. 

He  seemed  to  take  his  defeat  well.  He  was  pale, 
and  his  lips  twitched  with  the  effort  to  attain  com- 
posure. He  looked  at  Helen  with  a  hungry  longing 
that  was  slowly  acknowledging  restraint. 

"  I  must  have  frightened  you,"  he  said,  breaking 
a  silence  that  was  growing  irksome.  "  Of  course  I 
apologize  for  that.  But  we  cannot  leave  things 
where  they  are.  If  you  must  send  me  away  from 

317 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

you,  I  may  at  least  demand  a  clear  understanding. 
Have  no  fear  that  I  shall  distress  you  further.  May 
I  join  you,  or  will  you  walk  to  the  bridge  a  little 
higher  up  ?  " 

"  Let  us  return  to  the  hotel,"  she  protested. 

"  No,  no.  We  are  not  children.  We  have  broken 
no  law  of  God  or  man.  Why  should  I  be  ashamed 
of  having  asked  you  to  marry  me,  or  you  to  listen, 
even  though  it  be  such  a  hopeless  fantasy  as  you 
say?  " 

Helen,  deeply  moved  in  his  behalf,  walked  to  a 
bridge  of  planks  a  little  distance  up  stream.  Bower 
joined  her  there.  He  had  deliberately  resolved  to 
do  a  dastardly  thing.  If  Spencer  was  the  cause  of 
Helen's  refusal,  that  obstacle,  at  any  rate,  could  be 
smashed  to  a  pulp. 

"  Now,  Helen,"  he  said,  "  I  want  you  to  believe 
that  your  happiness  is  my  only  concern.  Perhaps, 
at  some  other  time,  you  may  allow  me  to  renew  in 
less  abrupt  manner  the  proposal  I  have  made  to- 
day. But  when  you  hear  all  that  I  have  to  tell,  you 
will  be  forced  to  admit  that  I  placed  your  high  re- 
pute above  every  other  consideration  in  declaring 
my  love  before,  rather  than  after,  you  learned  how 
and  why  you  came  to  Switzerland." 

His  manner  was  becoming  more  calm  and  judicial 
each  moment.  It  reacted  on  Helen,  who  gazed  at 
him  with  a  very  natural  surprise  in  her  still  tear- 
laden  eyes. 

"  That,  at  least,  is  simple  enough,"  she  cried. 
318 


A  COWARD'S  VICTORY 

"  No.  It  is  menacing,  ugly,  a  trick  calculated  to 
wound  you  sorely.  When  first  it  came  to  my  ears 
I  refused  to  credit  the  vile  meanness  of  it.  You  saw 
that  telegram  which  reached  my  hands  as  we  quitted 
the  hotel?  It  is  a  reply  to  certain  inquiries  I  caused 
to  be  made  in  London.  Read  it." 

Helen  took  the  crumpled  sheets  of  thin  paper 
and  began  to  read.  Bower  watched  her  face  with  a 
maleficent  confidence  that  might  have  warned  her 
had  she  seen  it.  But  she  paid  heed  to  nothing  else 
at  that  moment  save  the  mysterious  words  scrawled 
in  a  foreign  handwriting: 

"  Have  investigated  '  Firefly  '  incident  fully.  Pargrave  com- 
pelled Mackenzie  to  explain.  The  American,  Charles  K.  Spen- 
cer, recently  residing  at  Embankment  Hotel,  is  paying  Miss 
Helen  Wynton's  expenses,  including  cost  of  publishing  her 
articles.  He  followed  her  on  the  day  of  her  departure,  and 
has  since  asked  Mackenzie  for  introduction.  Pargrave  greatly 
annoyed,  and  holds  Mackenzie  at  your  disposal. 

"  KEJTITET.  " 

Helen  went  very  white;  but  she  spoke  with  a  firm- 
ness that  was  amazing,  even  to  Bower.  "  Who  i» 
Kennet?  "  she  said. 

"  One  of  my  confidential  clerks." 

"  And  Pargrave  ?  " 

"  The  proprietor  of  «  The  Firefly.'  " 

"  Did  Millicent  know  of  this— plot?  " 

"  Yes." 

Then  she  murmured  a  broken  prayer.  "  Ah,  dear 
Heaven !  "  she  complained,  "  for  what  am  I  punished 
so  bitterly?  " 

S19 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

Karl,  the  voluble  and  sharp-eyed,  retailed  a  bit  of 
gossip  to  Stampa  that  evening  as  they  smoked  in 
Johann  Klucker's  chalet.  "  As  I  was  driving  the 
cattle  to  the  middle  alp  to-day,  I  saw  our  frdulein 
in  the  arms  of  the  big  voyageur,"  he  said. 

Stampa  withdrew  his  pipe  from  between  his  teeth. 
"  Say  that  again,"  he  whispered,  as  though  afraid 
of  being  overheard. 

Karl  did  so,  with  fuller  details. 

"  Are  you  sure  ?  "  asked  Stampa. 

Karl  sniffed  scornfully.  "  Ach,  Gott!  How  could 
I  err?  "  he  cried.  "  There  are  not  so  many  pretty 
women  in  the  hotel  that  I  should  not  recognize  our 
frdulein.  And  who  would  forget  Herr  Bower?  He 
gave  me  two  louis  for  a  ten  francs  job.  We  must 
get  them  together  on  the  hills  again,  Christian.  He 
will  be  soft  hearted  now,  and  pay  well  for  taking 
care  of  his  lady." 

"  Yes,"  said  Stampa,  resuming  his  pipe.  "  You 
are  right,  Karl.  There  is  no  place  like  the  hills. 
And  he  will  pay — the  highest  price,  look  you! 
Saperlotte!  I  shall  exact  a  heavy  fee  this  time." 


320 


CHAPTER  XVI 

SPENCER-   EXPLAINS 

A  SUSTAINED  rapping  on  the  inner  door  of  the 
hut  roused  Helen  from  dreamless  sleep.  In  the  twi- 
light of  the  mind  that  exists  between  sleeping  and 
waking  she  was  bewildered  by  the  darkness,  perhaps 
baffled  by  her  novel  surroundings.  She  strove  to 
pierce  the  gloom  with  wide-open,  unseeing  eyes,  but 
the  voice  of  her  guide  broke  the  spell. 

"  Time  to  get  up,  signora.  The  sun  is  on  the 
rock,  and  we  have  a  piece  of  bad  snow  to  cross." 

Then  she  remembered,  and  sighed.  The  sigh  was 
involuntary,  the  half  conscious  tribute  of  a  wearied 
heart.  It  needed  an  effort  to  brace  herself  against 
the  long  hours  of  a  new  day,  the  hours  when  thoughts 
would  come  unbidden,  when  regrets  that  she  was 
fighting  almost  fiercely  would  rush  in  and  threaten 
to  overwhelm  her.  But  Helen  was  brave.  She  had 
the  courage  that  springs  from  the  conviction  of  hav- 

321 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

ing  done  that  which  is  right.  If  she  was  a  woman 
too,  with  a  woman's  infinite  capacity  for  suffering — 
well,  that  demanded  another  sort  of  bravery,  a  re- 
solve to  subdue  the  soul's  murmurings,  a  spiritual 
teeth-clenching  in  the  determination  to  prevail,  a 
complete  acceptance  of  unmerited  wrongs  in  obedi- 
ence to  some  inexplicable  decree  of  Providence. 

So  she  rose  from  a  couch  which  at  least  demanded 
perfect  physical  health  ere  one  could  find  rest  on 
it,  and,  being  fully  dressed,  went  forth  at  once  to 
drink  the  steaming  hot  coffee  that  filled  the  tiny  hut 
with  its  fragrance. 

"A  fine  morning,  Pietro?"  she  asked,  addressing 
the  man  who  had  summoned  her. 

"  Si,  signora.  Dawn  is  breaking  with  good  prom- 
ise. There  is  a  slight  mist  on  the  glacier;  but  the 
rock  shows  clear  in  the  sun." 

She  knew  that  an  amiable  grin  was  on  the  man's 
face ;  but  it  was  so  dark  in  the  cdbane  that  she  could 
see  little  beyond  the  figures  of  the  guide  and  his  com- 
panion. She  went  to  the  door,  and  stood  for  a  min- 
ute on  the  narrow  platform  of  rough  stones  that 
provided  the  only  level  space  in  a  witches'  cauldron 
of  moss  covered  boulders  and  rough  ice.  Beneath 
her  feet  was  an  ultramarine  mist,  around  her  were 
masses  of  black  rock;  but  overhead  was  a  glorious 
pink  canopy,  fringed  by  far  flung  circles  of  translu- 
cent blue  and  tenderest  green.  And  this  heaven's 
own  shield  was  ever  widening.  Eastward  its  arc  was 
broken  by  an  irregular  dark  mass,  whose  pin- 

322 


SPENCER  EXPLAINS 

nacles  glittered  like  burnished  gold.  That  was  the 
Aguagliouls  Rock,  which  rises  so  magnificently  in 
the  midst  of  a  vast  ice  field,  like  some  great  portal 
to  the  wonderland  of  the  Bernina.  She  had  seen  it 
the  night  before,  after  leaving  the  small  restaurant 
that  nestles  at  the  foot  of  the  Roseg  Glacier.  Then 
its  scarred  sides,  brightened  by  the  crimson  and  vio- 
let rays  of  the  setting  sun,  looked  friendly  and  in- 
viting. Though  its  base  was  a  good  mile  distant 
across  the  snow-smoothed  surface  of  the  ice,  she 
could  discern  every  crevice  and  ledge  and  steep 
couloir.  Now,  all  these  distinguishing  features  were 
merged  in  the  sea-blue  mist.  The  great  wall  itself 
seemed  to  be  one  vast,  unscalable  precipice,  capped 
by  a  series  of  shining  spires. 

And  for  the  first  time  in  three  sorrowful  days, 
while  her  eyes  dwelt  on  that  castle  above  the  clouds, 
the  mysterious  grandeur  of  nature  healed  her  vexed 
spirit,  and  the  peace  that  passeth  all  understanding 
fell  upon  her.  The  miserable  intrigues  and  jeal- 
ousies of  the  past  weeks  were  so  insignificant,  so  far 
away,  up  here  among  the  mountains.  Had  she  only 
consulted  her  own  happiness,  she  mused,  she  would 
not  have  ordered  events  differently.  There  was  no 
real  reason  why  she  should  have  flown  from  the  hotel 
like  a  timid  deer  roused  by  hounds  from  a  thicket. 
Instead  of  doubling  and  twisting  from  St.  Moritz 
to  Samaden,  and  back  by  carriage  to  a  remote  hotel 
in  the  Roseg  Valley,  she  might  have  remained  and 
defied  her  persecutors.  But  now  the  fume  and  fret 

323 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

were  ended,  and  she  tried  to  persuade  herself  she  was 
glad.  She  felt  that  she  could  never  again  endure 
the  sight  of  Bower's  face.  The  memory  of  his  pas- 
sionate embrace,  of  his  blazing  eyes,  of  the  thick 
sensual  lips  that  forced  their  loathsome  kisses  upon 
her,  was  bitter  enough  without  the  need  of  reviving 
it  each  time  they  met.  She  was  sorry  it  was  impos- 
sible to  bid  farewell  to  Mrs.  de  la  Vere.  Any  hint 
of  her  intent  would  have  drawn  from  that  well-dis- 
posed cynic  a  flood  of  remonstrance  hard  to  stem; 
though  nothing  short  of  force  would  have  kept 
Helen  at  Maloja  once  she  was  sure  of  Spencer's 
double  dealing. 

Of  course,  she  might  write  to  Mrs.  de  la  Vere 
when  she  was  in  calmer  mood.  It  would  be  easier 
then  to  pick  and  choose  the  words  that  would  con- 
vey in  full  measure  her  detestation  of  the  American. 
For  she  hated  him — yes,  hatred  alone  was  satisfying. 
She  despised  her  own  heart  because  it  whispered  a 
protest.  Yet  she  feared  him  too.  It  was  from  him 
that  she  fled.  She  admitted  this  to  her  honest  mind 
while  she  watched  the  spreading  radiance  of  the  new 
day.  She  feared  the  candor  of  his  steady  eyes  more 
than  the  wiles  and  hypocrisies  of  Bower  and  her 
false  friend,  Millicent.  By  a  half  miraculous  in- 
sight into  the  history  of  recent  events,  she  saw  that 
Bower  had  followed  her  to  Switzerland  with  evil 
intent. 

But  the  discovery  embittered  her  the  more  against 
Spencer,  who  had  lured  her  there  deliberately,  than 


against  Bower  who  knew  of  it,  nor  scrupled  to  use 
the  knowledge  as  best  it  marched  with  his  designs. 
It  was  nothing  to  her,  she  told  herself,  that  Spencer 
no  less  than  Bower  had  renounced  his  earlier  pur- 
pose, and  was  ready  to  marry  her.  She  still  quiv- 
ered with  anger  at  the  thought  that  she  had  fallen 
so  blindly  into  the  toils.  Even  though  she  accepted 
Mackenzie's  astounding  commission,  she  might  have 
guessed  that  there  was  some  ignoble  element  under- 
lying it.  She  felt  now  that  it  was  possible  to  be 
prepared, — to  scrutinize  occurrences  more  closely, 
to  hold  herself  aloof  from  compromising  incidents. 
The  excursion  to  the  Forno,  the  manifest  interest 
she  displayed  in  both  men,  the  concealment  of  her 
whereabouts  from  friends  in  London,  her  stiff  lipped 
indifference  to  the  opinion  of  other  residents  in  the 
hotel, — these  things,  trivial  individually,  united  into 
a  strong  self  indictment. 

As  for  Spencer,  though  she  meant,  above  all  things, 
to  avoid  meeting  him,  and  hoped  that  he  was  now 
well  on  his  way  to  the  wide  world  beyond  Maloja, 
she  would  never  forgive  him — no,  never! 

"  I  am  sorry  to  hurry  you,  signora,  but  there  is  a 
bit  of  really  bad  snow  on  the  Sella  Pass,"  urged 
Pietro  apologetically  at  her  shoulder,  and  she  re- 
entered  the  hut  at  once,  sitting  down  to  that  which 
she  deemed  to  be  her  last  meal  on  the  Swiss  side  of 
the  Upper  Engadine. 

It  was  in  a  hotel  at  St.  Moritz  that  she  had  settled 
her  route  with  the  aid  of  a  map  and  a  guidebook. 

325 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

When,  on  that  day  of  great  happenings,  she  quitted 
the  Kursaal-Maloja,  she  stipulated  that  the  utmost 
secrecy  should  be  observed  as  to  her  departure.  Her 
boxes  and  portmanteau  were  brought  from  her  room 
by  the  little  used  exit  she  had  discovered  soon  after 
her  arrival.  A  closed  carriage  met  her  there  in  the 
dusk,  and  she  drove  straight  to  St.  Moritz  station. 
Leaving  her  baggage  in  the  parcels  office,  she  sought 
a  quiet  hotel  for  the  night,  registering  her  room  un- 
der her  mother's  maiden  name  of  Trenholme.  She 
meant  to  return  to  England  by  the  earliest  train  in 
the  morning;  but  her  new-born  terror  of  encounter- 
ing Spencer  set  in  motion  a  scheme  for  evading  pur- 
suit either  by  him  or  Bower. 

By  going  up  the  Roseg  Valley,  and  carrying  the 
barest  necessaries  for  a  few  days*  travel,  she  could 
cross  the  Bernina  range  into  Italy,  reach  the  rail 
at  Sondrio,  and  go  round  by  Como  to  Lucerne  and 
thence  to  Basle,  whither  the  excellent  Swiss  system 
of  delivering  passengers'  luggage  would  convey  her 
bulky  packages  long  before  she  was  ready  to  claim 
them. 

With  a  sense  of  equity  that  was  creditable,  she 
made  up  her  mind  to  expend  every  farthing  of  the 
money  received  from  "  The  Firefly."  She  had  kept 
her  contract  faithfully:  Mackenzie,  therefore,  or 
Spencer,  must  abide  by  it  to  the  last  letter.  The 
third  article  of  the  series  was  already  written  and 
in  the  post.  The  fourth  she  wrote  quietly  in  her 
room  at  the  St,  Moritz  hotel,  nor  did  she  stir  out 

326 


SPENCER  EXPLAINS 

during  the  next  day  until  it  was  dark,  when  she 
walked  a  few  yards  up  the  main  street  to  buy  a 
rucksack  and  an  alpenstock. 

Early  next  morning,  close  wrapped  and  veiled,  she 
took  a  carriage  to  the  Restaurant  du  Glacier.  Here 
she  met  an  unforeseen  check.  The  local  guides  were 
absent  in  the  Bernina,  and  the  hotel  proprietor — 
good,  careful  man ! — would  not  hear  of  intrusting 
the  pretty  English  girl  to  inexperienced  villagers, 
but  persuaded  her  to  await  the  coming  of  a  party 
from  Italy,  whose  rooms  were  bespoke.  Their  guides, 
in  all  probability,  would  be  returning  over  the  Sella 
Pass,  and  would  charge  far  less  for  the  journey. 

He  was  right.  On  the  afternoon  of  the  following 
day,  three  tired  Englishmen  arrived  at  the  res- 
taurant, and  their  hardy  Italian  pilots  were  only 
too  glad  to  find  a  voyageur  ready  to  start  at  once 
for  the  Mortel  hut,  whence  a  nine  hours'  climb  would 
take  them  back  to  the  Val  Malenco,  provided  they 
crossed  the  dangerous  neve  on  the  upper  part  of  the 
glacier  soon  after  daybreak. 

Pietro,  the  leader,  was  a  cheery  soul.  Like  oth- 
ers of  his  type  in  the  Bernina  region,  he  spoke  a 
good  deal  of  German,  and  his  fund  of  pleasant  anec- 
dote and  reminiscence  kept  Helen  from  brooding  on 
her  own  troubles  during  the  long  evening  in  the 
hut. 

And  now,  while  she  was  finishing  her  meal  in  the 
dim  light  of  dawn,  and  the  second  guide  was  pack- 
ing their  few  belongings,  Pietro  regaled  her  with  a 

327 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

legend  of  the  Monte  del  Diavolo,  which  overlooks 
Sondrio  and  the  lovely  valley  of  the  Adda. 

"  Once  upon  a  time,  signora,  they  used  to  grow 
fine  grapes  there,"  he  said,  "  and  the  wine  was  al- 
ways sent  to  Rome  for  the  special  use  of  the  Pope 
and  his  cardinals.  That  made  the  people  proud, 
and  the  devil  took  possession  of  them,  which  greatly 
grieved  a  pious  hermit  who  dwelt  in  a  cell  in  the  lit- 
tle Val  Malgina,  by  the  side  of  a  torrent  that  flows 
into  the  Adda.  So  one  day  he  asked  the  good  Lord 
to  permit  the  devil  to  visit  him;  but  when  Satan 
appeared  the  saint  laughed  at  him.  '  You ! '  he  cried. 
'  Who  sent  for  you?  You  are  not  the  Prince  of  the 
Infernal  Regions?  ' — '  Am  I  not?  '  said  the  stranger, 
with  a  truly  fiendish  grin.  '  Just  try  my  powers,  and 
see  what  will  happen ! ' — l  Very  well,'  said  the  saint, 
*  produce  me  twenty  barrels  of  better  wine  than  can 
be  grown  in  Sondrio.'  So  old  Barbariccia  stamped 
his  hoof,  and  lo !  there  were  the  twenty  barrels,  while 
the  mere  scent  of  them  nearly  made  the  saint  break 
a  vow  that  he  would  never  again  taste  fermented 
wine.  But  he  held  fast,  and  said,  '  Now,  drink  the 
lot.' — '  Oh,  nonsense ! '  roared  the  devil.  *  Pooh ! ' 
said  the  hermit,  '  you're  not  much  of  a  devil  if  you 
can't  do  in  a  moment  what  the  College  of  Cardi- 
nals can  do  in  a  week.'  That  annoyed  Satan,  and 
he  put  away  barrel  after  barrel,  until  the  saint  be- 
gan to  feel  very  uneasy.  But  the  last  barrel  finished 
him,  and  down  he  went  like  a  log,  whereupon  the 
holy  man  put  him  into  one  of  his  own  tubs  and  sent 

328 


SPENCER  EXPLAINS 

him  to  Rome  to  be  dealt  with  properly.  There  was 
a  tremendous  row,  it  is  said,  when  the  cask  was 
opened.  In  the  confusion,  Satan  escaped;  but  in 
revenge  for  the  trick  that  had  been  played  on  him, 
he  put  a  blight  on  the  vines  of  the  Adda,  and  from 
that  day  to  this  never  a  liter  of  decent  wine  came 
out  of  Sondrio." 

"  I  guess  if  that  occurred  anywhere  in  Italy  nowa- 
days, they'd  lynch  the  hermit,"  said  a  voice  in  Eng- 
lish outside. 

Helen  screamed,  and  the  two  Italians  were  star- 
tled. No  one  was  expected  at  the  hut  at  that  hour. 
Its  earliest  visitors  should  come  from  the  inner  range, 
after  a  long  tramp  from  Italy  or  Pontresina. 

"  Sorry  if  I  scared  you,"  said  Spencer,  his  tall 
figure  suddenly  darkening  the  doorway ;  "  but  I 
didn't  like  to  interrupt  the  story." 

Helen  sprang  to  her  feet.  Her  cheeks,  blanched 
for  a  few  seconds,  became  rosy  red.  "  You ! "  she 
cried.  "  How  dare  you  follow  me  here  ?  " 

In  the  rapidly  growing  light  she  caught  a  transi- 
tory gleam  in  the  American's  eyes,  though  his  face 
was  as  impassive  as  usual.  And  the  worst  of  it  was 
that  it  suggested  humor,  not  resentment.  Even  in 
the  tumult  of  wounded  pride  that  took  her  heart  by 
storm,  she  realized  that  her  fiery  vehemence  had  gone 
perilously  near  to  a  literal  translation  of  the  saintly 
scoff  at  old  Barbariccia.  And,  now  if  ever,  she  must 
be  dignified.  Anger  yielded  to  disdain.  In  an  in- 
stant she  grew  cold  and  self  collected. 

329 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

" 1  regret  that  in  my  surprise  I  spoke  unguard- 
edly," she  said.  "  Of  course,  this  hut  is  open  to 
everyone " 

"  Judging  by  the  look  of  things  between  here  and 
the  hotel,  we  shall  not  be  worried  by  a  crowd,"  broke 
in  Spencer.  "  I  meant  to  arrive  half  an  hour  earlier ; 
but  that  slope  on  the  Alp  Ota  offers  surprising  diffi- 
culties in  the  dark." 

"  I  wished  to  say,  when  you  interrupted  me,  that 
I  am  leaving  at  once,  so  my  presence  can  make  lit- 
tle difference  to  you,"  said  Helen  grandly. 

"  That  sounds  more  reasonable  than  it  really  is," 
was  the  quietly  flippant  reply. 

"  It  conveys  my  intent.  I  have  no  desire  to  pro- 
long this  conversation,"  she  cried  rather  more  Hur- 
riedly. 

"  Now,  there  I  agree  with  you.  We  have  started 
on  the  wrong  set  of  rails.  It  is  my  fault.  I  ought 
to  have  coughed,  or  fallen  down  the  moraine,  or 
done  any  old  thing  sooner  than  butt  into  the  talk 
so  unexpectedly.  If  you  will  allow  me,  I'll  begin 
again  right  now." 

He  turned  to  the  Italians,  who  were  watching  and 
listening  in  curious  silence,  trying  to  pick  up  an 
odd  word  that  would  help  to  explain  the  relations 
between  the  two. 

"  Will  you  gentlemen  take  an  interest  in  the  scen- 
ery for  five  minutes  ?  "  he  asked,  with  a  smile. 

Though  the  valley  of  the  Adda  may  have  lost 
its  wine?  it  will  never  lose  its  love  of  romance.  The 

330 


SPENCER  EXPLAINS 

polite  Italians  raised  their  hats  and  went  out.  Helen, 
drawing  a  long  breath,  withdrew  somewhat  into  the 
shadow.  She  felt  that  she  would  have  more  command 
over  herself  if  the  American  could  not  see  her 
face.  The  ruse  did  not  avail  her  at  all.  Spencer 
crossed  the  floor  of  the  hut  until  he  looked  into 
her  eyes. 

"  Helen,"  he  said,  "  why  did  you  run  away  from 
me?  " 

The  tender  reproach  in  his  voice  almost  unnerved 
her ;  but  she  answered  simply,  "  What  else  would 
you  have  me  do,  once  I  found  out  the  circumstances 
under  which  I  came  to  Switzerland?  " 

"  It  may  be  that  you  were  not  told  the  truth.  Who 
was  your  informant?  " 

"  Mr.  Bower." 

"None  other?" 

"  What,  then  ?  Is  my  pitiful  story  the  property 
of  the  hotel?" 

"  It  is  now.  I  took  care  of  that.  Some  of  the 
people  there  had  been  spreading  a  misleading  ver- 
sion, and  it  was  necessary  to  correct  it.  The  women, 
of  course,  I  could  not  deal  with.  As  the  General  was 
an  old  man,  I  picked  out  George  de  Courcy  Vavasour 
as  best  fitted  to  digest  the  wrong  edition.  I  made 
him  eat  it.  It  seemed  to  disagree  with  him;  but  he 
got  through  with  an  effort." 

Helen  felt  that  she  ought  to  decline  further  dis- 
cussion. But  she  was  tongue  tied.  Spencer  was 
regarding  her  so  fixedly  that  she  began  to  fear  lest 

331 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

he  might  notice  the  embarrassed  perplexity  that  she 
herself  was  quite  conscious  of. 

"  Will  you  be  good  enough  to  explain  exactly 
what  you  mean?  "  she  said,  forcing  the  question  me- 
chanically from  her  lips. 

"  That  is  why  I  am  here.  I  assure  you  that  sub- 
terfuge can  never  again  exist  between  you  and  me," 
said  he  earnestly.  "  You  can  accept  my  words  lit- 
erally. Acting  for  himself  and  others,  Vavasour 
wrote  on  paper  the  lying  insinuations  made  by  Miss 
Jaques,  and  ate  them — both  words  and  paper.  He 
happened  to  use  the  thin,  glazed,  Continental  va- 
riety, so  what  it  lost  in  bulk  it  gained  in  toughness. 
He  didn't  like  it,  and  said  so ;  but  he  had  to  do  it." 

She  was  nervously  aware  of  a  wish  to  laugh;  but 
unless  she  gave  way  to  hysteria  that  was  not  to  be 
thought  of.  Trying  to  retreat  still  farther  into  the 
friendly  shade,  she  backed  round  the  inner  end  of 
the  table,  but  found  the  way  blocked  by  a  rough 
bench.  Something  must  be  said  or  done  to  extricate 
herself.  The  dread  that  her  voice  might  break  was 
becoming  an  obsession. 

"  You  speak  of  a  false  version,  and  that  implies 
a  true  one,"  she  managed  to  say  constrainedly. 
"  How  far  was  Mr.  Bower's  statement  false  or 
true?" 

"  I  settled  that  point  too.  Mr.  Bower  told  you 
the  facts.  The  deduction  he  forced  on  you  was  a 
lie.  To  my  harmless  notion  of  gratifying  a  girl's 
longing  for  a  holiday  abroad  he  added  the  motive 

332 


SPENCER  EXPLAINS 

that  inspired  his  own  journey.  I  overheard  your 
conversation  with  Miss  Jaques  in  the  Embankment 
Hotel ;  I  saw  Bower  introduced  to  you ;  I  saw  him 
looking  for  you  in  Victoria  Station,  and  knew  that 
he  represented  the  meeting  as  accidental.  I  felt  a 
certain  responsibility  on  your  account;  so  I  fol- 
lowed by  the  next  train.  Bower  played  his  cards 
so  well  that  I  found  myself  in  a  difficult  position. 
I  was  busy  guessing;  but  was  unable  to  prove  any- 
thing, while  the  one  story  I  was  sure  of  was  not 
in  the  game.  And  then,  you  see,  he  wanted  to  make 
you  his  wife,  which  brought  about  the  real  compli- 
cation. I  haven't  much  use  for  him;  but  I  must 
be  fair,  and  Bower's  only  break  was  when  he  mis- 
represented my  action  in  subsidizing  '  The  Firefly.' 
I  don't  deny  he  was  pretty  mad  at  the  idea  of  losing 
you,  and  jealousy  will  often  drive  a  man  to  do  a 
mean  thing  which  might  otherwise  be  repugnant  to 
his  better  nature " 

"  Jealousy ! "  shrilled  Helen,  her  woman's  wit  at 
last  finding  a  joint  in  his  armor.  Yet  never  did 
woman  err  more  than  she  in  thinking  that  her  Ameri- 
can suitor  would  flinch  beneath  the  shaft. 

"  That  is  the  word,"  was  the  quiet  reply. 

She  flared  into  indignant  scorn.  "  Pray  tell  me 
why  he  or  any  other  man  should  feel  jealous  of  you 
where  I  am  concerned,"  she  said. 

"  I  am  going  to  tell  you  right  away — Helen.  But 
that  is  the  last  chapter.  There  is  quite  a  long  rec- 
ord as  to  the  way  I  hit  on  your  track  in  St.  Moritz, 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

and  heard  of  you  by  telephone  last  night.  Of  course, 
that  part  of  the  story  will  keep " 

"  Is  it  necessary  that  I  should  hear  any  portion 
of  it?  "  she  interrupted,  hoping  to  irritate  him,  and 
thus  lessen  the  strain  imposed  by  his  studiously  tran- 
quil manner. 

"  Well,  it  ought  to  interest  you.  But  it  has  hu- 
morous points  to  which  I  can't  do  justice  under  pres- 
ent conditions.  You  are  right,  Helen — you  most 
always  are.  The  real  question  at  issue  is  my  posi- 
tion in  the  deal,  which  becomes  quite  clear  when  I 
say  that  you  are  the  only  woman  I  have  ever  loved 
or  ever  shall  love.  More  than  that,  you  are  the  only 
woman  to  whom  I  have  ever  spoken  a  word  of  love, 
and  as  I  have  set  about  loving  the  dearest  and  pret- 
tiest and  healthiest  girl  I  have  ever  seen,  it  is  safe 
to  figure  that  you  will  have  sole  claim  on  all  the  nice 
things  I  can  try  to  say  to  any  woman  during  the 
remainder  of  my  life." 

He  hesitated  a  moment.  He  did  not  appear  to 
notice  that  Helen,  after  a  rebellious  gasp  or  two, 
had  suddenly  become  very  still. 

"  I  suppose  I  ought  to  have  fixed  up  a  finer  bit  of 
word  painting  than  that,"  he  continued  slowly.  "  As 
a  matter  of  fact,  I  don't  mind  admitting  that  ever 
since  eleven  o'clock  last  night,  when  the  proprietor 
of  the  hotel  below  there  telephoned  to  me  that  Miss 
Trenholme  had  gone  to  the  Mortel  hut  with  two 
guides,  I  have  been  rehearsing  X  plus  Y  multiplied 
by  Z  ways  of  telling  you  just  how  dear  you  are  to 

334 


SPENCER  EXPLAINS 

me.  But  they  all  vanished  like  smoke  when  I  saw 
your  sweet  face.  You  tried  to  be  severe  with  me, 
Helen;  but  your  voice  didn't  ring  true,  and  you 
are  the  poorest  sort  of  prevaricator  I  know.  And 
the  reason  those  set  forms  wouldn't  work  at  the  right 
moment  is  that  they  were  addressed  to  the  silent  air. 
You  are  near  me  now,  my  sweet.  You  are  almost  in 
my  arms.  You  are  in  my  arms,  Helen,  and  it  sounds 
just  right  to  keep  on  telling  you  that  I  love  you 
now  and  shall  love  you  for  ever.  Oh,  my  dear,  my 
dear,  you  must  never,  never,  run  away  again !  Search 
the  dictionary  for  all  the  unkindest  things  you  can 
say  about  me;  but  don't  run  away  .  .  .  for  I 
know  now  that  when  you  are  absent  the  day  is  night 
and  the  night  is  akin  to  death." 

Guide  Pietro  was  somewhat  a  philosopher.  Stamp- 
ing about  on  the  tiny  stone  plateau  of  the  hut  to 
keep  at  bay  the  cold  mists  from  the  glacier,  he  hap- 
pened to  glance  through  the  open  door.  He  drew 
away  instantly. 

"  Bartelommeo,"  he  said  to  his  companion,  "  we 
shall  not  cross  the  Sella  to-day  with  our  charming 
voyageur." 

Bartelommeo  was  surprised.  He  looked  at  the 
clean  cut  crest  of  the  rock,  glowing  now  in  vivid 
sunlight.  Argument  was  not  required;  he  pointed 
silently  with  the  stem  of  his  pipe. 

"  Yes,"  murmured  Pietro.  "  We  couldn't  have 
a  better  day  for  the  pass.  It  is  not  the  weather." 

335 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

"  Then  what  is  it?  "  asked  Bartelommeo,  moved 
to  speech. 

"  She  is  going  the  other  way.  Didn't  you  catch 
the  tears  in  her  voice  yesterday?  She  smiled  at  my 
stories,  and  carried  herself  bravely ;  but  her  eyes  were 
heavy,  and  the  corners  of  her  mouth  drooped  when 
she  was  left  to  her  thoughts.  And  again,  my  friend, 
did  you  not  see  her  face  when  the  young  signor 
arrived?  " 

"  She  was  frightened." 

Pietro  laughed  softly.  "  A  woman  always  fears 
her  lover,"  he  said.  "  That  is  just  the  reason  why 
you  married  Caterina.  You  liked  her  for  her  shy- 
ness. It  made  you  feel  yourself  a  man — a  devil  of 
a  fellow.  Don't  you  remember  how  timid  she  was, 
how  she  tried  to  avoid  you,  how  she  would  dodge  into 
anybody's  chalet  rather  than  meet  you?  " 

"But  how  do  you  know?"  demanded  Bartelom- 
meo,  waking  into  resentful  appreciation  of  Pietro's 
close  acquaintance  with  his  wooing. 

"  Because  I  married  Lola  two  years  earlier. 
Women  are  all  the  same,  no  matter  what  country 
they  hail  from — nervous  as  young  chamois  before 
marriage — but  after !  Body  of  Bacchus  !  Was  it 
on  Wednesday  that  Caterina  hauled  you  out  of  the 
albergo  to  chop  firewood?  " 

Bartelommeo  grunted,  and  put  his  pipe  in  his 
mouth  again. 


J36 


CHAPTER  XVII 


THE    SETTLEMENT 

THOUGH  Helen  was  the  better  linguist,  it  was  left 
to  Spencer  to  explain  that  circumstances  would  pre- 
rent  the  lady  from  going  to  Malenco  that  day.  He 
did  not  fully  understand  why  the  men  should  ex- 
change glances  of  darksome  intelligence  when  he 
made  this  statement.  He  fancied  they  were  disap- 
pointed at  losing  a  good  customer;  so  he  went  on 
brokenly : 

"  You  are  in  no  hurry,  eh?  Well,  then,  take  us 
across  the  glacier  to  the  Aguagliouls.  We  should 
obtain  a  fine  view  from  the  summit,  and  get  back 
to  the  hotel  for  luncheon.  I  will  pay  the  same  rates 
as  for  the  Sella." 

Both  guides  were  manifestly  pleased.  Pietro  be- 
gan a  voluble  recital  of  the  glories  that  would  meet 
their  enraptured  gaze  from  the  top  of  the  mighty 
rock. 

337 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

"  You  will  see  the  Bernina  splendidly,"  he  cried, 
"  and  Roseg  too,  and  the  Gliischaint  and  II  Cha- 
piitschin.  If  the  lady  will  trust  to  us,  we  can  bring 
her  down  the  Tschierva  glacier  safely.  You  are  a 
climber,  signor,  else  you  could  never  have  crossed  the 
Ota  before  dawn.  But  let  us  make  another  cup  of 
coffee.  The  middle  Roseg  ice  is  safe  at  any  hour, 
and  if  we  are  on  the  rock  by  nine  o'clock  that  will 
be  perfect  for  the  sun." 

Already  a  grand  panorama  of  glaciers  and  peaks 
was  unfolding  itself.  A  cloudless  sky  promised  a 
lovely  August  day,  and  what  that  means  in  the  high 
Alps  the  mountaineer  alone  can  tell.  But  Spencer 
turned  his  back  on  the  outer  glory.  He  had  eyes 
only  for  Helen,  while  she,  looking  mistily  at  the 
giant  rock  across  the  valley,  saw  it  not  at  all,  for 
she  was  peering  into  her  own  soul,  and  found  the 
prospect  dazzling  in  its  pure  delight. 

So  they  sat  down  to  a  fresh  brew  of  coffee,  and 
Spencer  horrified  Helen  by  a  confession  that  he  had 
eaten  nothing  since  the  previous  evening.  Her  ten- 
der solicitude  for  his  needs,  her  hasty  unpacking  of 
rolls  and  sandwiches,  her  anxiety  that  he  should 
endeavor  to  consume  the  whole  of  the  provisions 
intended  for  the  day's  march,  were  all  sufficing 
guerdon  for  the  sufferings  of  those  miserable  days 
since  the  hour  when  Mrs.  de  la  Vere  told  him  that 
Helen  had  gone.  It  was  a  new  experience  for  Spen- 
cer to  have  a  gracious  and  smiling  woman  so  greatly 
concerned  for  his  welfare ;  but  it  was  decidedly  agree- 

338 


THE  SETTLEMENT 

able.  These  little  attentions  admitted  so  much  that 
she  dared  not  tell — as  yet.  And  he  had  such  a 
budget  of  news  for  her!  Though  he  found  it  diffi- 
cult to  eat  and  talk  at  the  same  time,  he  boldly  made 
the  attempt. 

"  Stampa  was  the  genius  who  really  unraveled  the 
mystery,"  he  said.  "  Certainly,  I  managed  to  dis- 
cover, in  the  first  instance,  that  you  had  deposited 
your  baggage  in  your  own  name.  Had  all  else 
failed,  I  should  have  converted  myself  into  a  label 
and  stuck  to  your  boxes  till  you  claimed  them  at 
Basle;  but  once  we  ascertained  that  you  had  not 
quitted  St.  Moritz  by  train,  Stampa  did  the  rest. 
He  knows  St.  Moritz  like  a  book,  and  it  occurred 
to  him  that  you  had  changed  your  name " 

"Why,  I  wonder?"  she  broke  in. 

"  That  is  rather  hard  to  say."  He  wrestled  val- 
iantly with  the  leg  of  a  tough  chicken,  and  thus 
was  able  to  evade  the  question. 

Poor  Stampa!  clinging  tenaciously  to  the  belief 
that  Helen  bore  some  resemblance  to  his  lost  daugh- 
ter, remembered  that  when  Etta  made  her  sorrow- 
ful journey  from  Zermatt  she  gave  another  name  at 
the  little  hostelry  in  Maloja  where  she  ended  her  life. 

"  Anyhow,"  went  on  Spencer,  having  dexterously 
severed  the  joint,  "  he  tracked  you  from  St.  Moritz 
to  the  Roseg.  He  even  hit  on  the  shop  in  which  you 
bought  your  rucksack  and  alpenstock.  Then  he  put 
me  on  to  the  telephone,  and  the  remainder  of  the 
chase  was  up  to  me." 

339 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

"  I  am  sorry  now  that  the  dear  old  man  did  not 
come  with  you,"  cried  Helen.  "  I  look  on  him  as 
the  first  of  my  friends  in  Switzerland,  and  shall  be 
more  than  pleased  to  see  him  again." 

"  I  pressed  him  to  come  along ;  but  he  refused. 
I  don't  wish  to  pain  you,  dearest,  but  I  guess  he 
wants  to  keep  track  of  Bower." 

Helen,  who  had  no  inkling  of  the  tragedy  that 
linked  those  two,  blushed  to  her  ears  at  the  recollec- 
tion of  her  parting  from  the  millionaire. 

"  Do  you — do  you  know  that  Mr.  Bower  proposed 
to  me?  "  she  stammered. 

"  He  told  me  that,  and  a  lot  more." 

"  Did  you  quarrel  ?  " 

"  We — said  things.  But  I  couldn't  treat  Bower 
as  I  handled  Georgie.  I  was  forced  to  admit  hi* 
good  taste,  you  see." 

"  Well,  dear,  promise  me " 

"  That  I  shaVt  slay  him !  Why,  Helen,  if  he  is 
half  the  man  I  take  him  for,  he  will  come  to  our 
wedding.  I  told  Mrs.  de  la  Vere  I  should  bring  you 
back,  and  she  agreed  that  there  was  nothing  else  to 
be  done." 

The  color  ebbed  and  flowed  on  Helen's  face  at  an 
alarming  rate.  "  What  in  the  world  are  you  talk- 
ing about  ?  "  she  asked,  with  a  calm  severity  that  her 
fluttering  heart  denied. 

Spencer  laughed  so  happily  that  Pietro,  who  un- 
derstood no  word  of  what  his  voyageurs  were  saying, 
gave  Bartelommeo  a  sapient  wink. 

340 


THE  SETTLEMENT 

"  Well,  now,"  he  cried,  "  wouldn't  we  be  the  queer- 
est pair  of  zanies  to  go  all  that  long  way  to  London 
to  get  married  when  a  parson,  and  a  church,  and  all 
the  needful  consular  offices  are  right  here  under  our 
noses,  so  to  speak.  Why,  we  have  a  ready-made 
honeymoon  staring  us  in  the  face.  We'll  just  skate 
round  Switzerland  after  your  baggage  and  then  drop 
down  the  map  into  Italy.  I  figured  it  all  out  last 
night,  together  with  'steen  methods  of  making  the 
preliminary  declaration.  I'll  tell  you  the  whole 
scheme  while  we — Oh,  well,  if  you're  in  a  real  hurry 
to  cross  the  glacier,  I  must  defer  details  and  talk  in 
headlines." 

For  Helen,  absolutely  scarlet  now,  had  risen  with 
a  tragic  air  and  bade  the  guides  prepare  for  instant 
departure. 

The  snow  lay  deep  on  the  Roseg,  and  roping  was 
essential,  though  Pietro  undertook  to  avoid  any  diffi- 
cult crevasses.  He  led,  Spencer  followed,  with 
Helen  next,  and  Bartelommeo  last.  They  reached 
the  opposite  moraine  in  half  an  hour,  and  began  to 
climb  steadily.  The  rock  which  looked  so  forbid- 
ding from  the  hut  was  by  no  means  steep  and  not 
at  all  dangerous.  They  had  plenty  of  time,  and 
often  stopped  to  admire  the  magnificent  vistas  of 
the  Val  Roseg  and  the  Bernina  range  that  were 
gradually  unfolding  before  their  eyes.  Soon  they 
were  on  a  level  with  the  hut,  the  Alpine  palace  that 
had  permitted  their  first  embrace. 

"  When  we  make  our  next   trip   to  St.   Moritz, 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

Helen,  we  must  seek  out  the  finest  and  biggest  photo- 
graph of  the  Mortel  that  money  can  buy,"  said 
Spencer. 

Helen  was  standing  a  little  above  him  on  a  broad 
ledge.  Her  hand  was  resting  on  his  shoulder. 

"  Oh,  look ! "  she  cried  suddenly,  pointing  with  her 
alpenstock  to  the  massive  mountain  wall  that  rose 
above  the  cabane.  A  few  stones  had  fallen  above 
a  widespread  snow  slope.  The  stones  started  an 
avalanche,  and  the  roar  of  the  tremendous  cascade 
of  snow  and  rock  was  distinctly  audible. 

Pietro  uttered  an  exclamation,  and  hastily  unslung 
a  telescope.  He  said  something  in  a  low  tone  to 
Bartelommeo ;  but  Spencer  and  Helen  grasped  its 
meaning. 

The  girl's  eyes  dilated  with  terror.  "  There  has 
been  an  accident  1 "  she  whispered.  Bartelommeo 
took  the  telescope  in  his  turn  and  evidently  agreed 
with  the  leading  guide. 

"  A  party  has  fallen  on  Corvatsch,"  said  Pietro 
gravely.  "  Two  men  are  clinging  to  a  ledge.  It 
is  not  a  bad  place;  but  they  cannot  move.  They 
must  be  injured,  and  there  may  be  others — below." 

"  Let  us  go  to  their  assistance,"  said  Spencer 
instantly. 

"  Per  certo,  slgnor.  That  is  the  law  of  the  hills. 
But  the  signora?  What  of  her?" 

"  She  will  remain  at  the  hut." 

"  I  will  do  anything  you  wish,"  said  Helen  sor- 
rowfully, for  her  gladness  had  been  changed  to 

342 


THE  SETTLEMENT 

mourning  by  the  fearsome  tidings  that  two,  if  not 
more,  human  beings  were  in  imminent  danger  on  the 
slopes  of  the  very  hill  that  had  witnessed  the  avowal 
of  her  love.  They  raced  back  over  the  glacier, 
doubling  on  their  own  track,  and  were  thus  enabled 
to  travel  without  precaution. 

Leaving  Helen  at  the  hut,  the  men  lost  no  time 
in  beginning  the  ascent.  They  were  gone  so  long 
that  she  was  almost  frantic  with  dread  in  their  be- 
half; but  at  last  they  came,  slowly,  with  the  tread 
of  care,  for  they  were  carrying  the  body  of  a 
man. 

While  they  were  yet  a  couple  of  hundred  feet 
above  the  hut,  Spencer  intrusted  the  burden  to  the 
Italians  alone.  He  advanced  with  rapid  strides,  and 
Helen  knew  that  he  brought  bad  news. 

"  Come,  dear  one,"  he  said  gently.  "  We  must  go 
to  the  inn  and  send  help.  Our  guides  are  bringing 
an  injured  man  to  the  hut,  and  there  is  one  other 
whom  we  left  on  the  mountain." 

"  Dead?  " 

"  Yes.  killed  instantly  by  a  stone.  That  was  all. 
Just  a  mishap — one  of  the  things  that  can  never  be 
avoided  in  climbing.  But  come,  dear.  More  men 
are  needed,  and  a  doctor.  This  poor  fellow  is  badly 
hurt." 

"  Can  I  do  nothing  for  him  ?  "  she  pleaded. 

A  species  of  fright  twitched  his  grave  face  for 
an  instant.  "  No,  no,  that  is  not  to  be  thought  of," 
he  urged.  "  Pietro  says  he  has  some  little  skill  in 

343 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

these  matters.  He  can  do  all  that  is  needed  until 
a  doctor  arrives.  Believe  me,  Helen,  it  is  imperative 
that  we  should  reach  the  hotel  without  delay." 

She  went  with  him  at  once.  "Who  is  it?"  she 
asked.  He  steeled  himself  to  answer  according  to 
his  intent.  Though  he  had  vowed  that  never  again 
would  he  utter  a  syllable  to  his  love  that  was  not 
transparently  true,  how  could  he  tell  her  then  that 
Stampa  was  stretched  lifeless  on  the  broad  bosom 
of  Corvatsch,  and  that  the  Italians  were  carry- 
ing Bower,  crushed  and  raving  in  delirium,  to  the 
hut. 

"  An  Englishman  and  his  guide,  I  am  sorry  to 
say,"  was  his  prepared  reply.  "  The  guide  is  dead ; 
but  his  employer  can  be  saved,  I  am  sure,  if  only 
we  rush  things  a  bit.  Now,  Helen,  let  us  go  at  top 
speed.  No  talking,  dear.  We  must  make  the  hotel 
under  the  hour." 

They  did  it,  and  help  was  soon  forthcoming.  Then 
Spencer  ordered  a  carriage,  and  insisted  that  Helen 
should  drive  to  Maloja  forthwith.  He  would  stay 
at  Roseg,  he  said,  to  make  certain  that  everything 
possible  was  done  for  the  unfortunate  climber.  In- 
deed, when  his  beloved  was  lost  to  sight  down  the 
winding  road  that  leads  to  the  main  valley  of  the 
Engadine,  he  accompanied  the  men  who  went  to  the 
Mortel.  Halfway  they  met  Pietro  and  Bartelommeo 
carrying  Bower  on  an  improvised  stretcher,  ice  axes 
and  a  blanket. 

By  this  time,  under  the  stimulus  of  wine  and 
344 


THE  SETTLEMENT 

warmth,  Bower  had  regained  his  senses.  He  recog- 
nized Spencer,  and  tried  to  speak;  but  the  American 
told  him  that  even  the  least  excitement  must  be 
avoided. 

Once  the  hotel  was  reached,  and  they  were  wait- 
ing for  the  doctor,  Bower  could  not  be  restrained. 

"It  was  you  who  rescued  me?"  he  said  feebly. 

"  I,  and  two  Italian  guides.  We  saw  the  accident 
from  the  other  side  of  the  Roseg  glacier." 

"  Yes.  Stampa  pointed  you  out  to  me.  I  could 
not  believe  my  eyes.  I  watched  you  till  the  thought 
came  that  Stampa  had  befooled  me.  Then  he  pushed 
me  off  the  rock  where  we  were  standing.  I  broke  my 
leg  in  the  fall;  but  he  held  me  there  on  the  rope 
and  taunted  me.  Great  God !  how  I  suffered !  " 

"  You  really  ought  not  to  talk  about  it,"  said 
Spencer  soothingly. 

"  Why  not  ?  He  brought  me  there  to  kill  me,  he 
said.  The  cunning  old  fox  told  me  that  I  would 
find  Helen  in  the  Mortel  hut,  and  offered  to  take  me 
to  her  by  a  short  cut  over  Corvatsch.  And  I  believed 
him!  I  was  mad,  I  suppose.  We  did  the  Marmore 
ascent  by  the  light  of  the  stars.  Do  you  realize  what 
that  means?  It  is  a  hard  climb  for  experts  in  broad 
daylight.  But  I  meant  to  beat  you,  Spencer. 
Stampa  vowed  you  were  in  St.  Moritz.  And  again 
I  believed  him!  Think  of  it — I  was  hoodwinked  by 
an  old  peasant." 

"  Hush !  Try  and  forget  things  till  your  broken 
limb  is  fixed." 

845 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

"  What  does  it  matter  ?  Confound  it !  you've  won ; 
so  let  me  tell  my  story.  I  must  have  lost  my  senses 
when  I  saw  you  and  Helen  leaving  the  glacier  with 
two  strange  guides.  I  forgot  all  else  in  my  rage. 
I  stood  there,  frozen,  bewitched.  Stampa  was  watch- 
ing me  all  the  time,  and  the  instant  I  turned  to  re- 
vile him  he  threw  me  off  my  balance  with  a  thrust 
of  his  ax.  '  Now  you  are  going  to  die,  Marcus 
Bauer! '  he  said,  grinning  at  me  with  a  lunatic's  joy. 
He  even  gloated  over  the  unexpected  injury  I  re- 
ceived in  falling.  My  groans  and  cries  were  so 
pleasing  to  him  that  he  did  not  cut  the  rope  at  once 
as  he  meant  to  do,  but  kept  me  dangling  there,  lis- 
tening to  his  reproaches.  Then  the  stones  fell,  and 
pinned  him  to  the  ledge ;  but  not  one  touched  me,  and 
I  hauled  myself  up,  broken  leg  and  all,  till  I  crawled 
on  to  the  big  rock  that  rested  on  his  body.  You 
found  me  there,  eh  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Well,  I  wish  you  luck.  I  meant  to  snatch  Helen 
from  you,  even  at  the  twelfth  hour ;  but  Stampa  over- 
reached me.  That  mock  marriage  of  his  contriving 
had  more  power  than  I  counted  on.  Curse  it !  how 
these  crushed  bones  are  beginning  to  ache !  Give  me 
some  brandy.  I  want  to  drink  Helen's  health,  and 
my  own,  and  yours,  damn  you !  See  that  you  treat 
her  well  and  make  her  life  happy !  She  is  worthy 
of  all  your  love,  and  I  suppose  she  loves  you,  whereas 
I  might  have  striven  for  years  to  win  her  affection 
and  then  failed  in  the  end." 

346 


THE  SETTLEMENT 

Late  that  night  Spencer  arrived  at  the  Maloja. 
Helen  was  waiting  for  him,  as  he  had  telephoned 
the  hour  he  might  be  expected.  Rumor  had  brought 
the  news  of  Stampa's  death  and  Bower's  accident. 
Then  she  understood  why  her  lover  had  sent  her 
away  so  quickly.  She  was  troubled  all  day,  blaming 
herself  as  the  unconscious  cause  of  so  much  misery. 
Spencer  saw  that  the  full  truth  alone  would  dispel 
her  self  reproach.  So  he  told  her  everything,  even 
showing  her  Millicent's  letter  and  a  telegram  received 
from  Mackenzie,  in  which  the  editor  of  "  The  Fire- 
fly "  put  it  quite  plainly  that  the  proprietor  of  the 
magazine  had  forbidden  him  (Mackenzie)  from  tak- 
ing any  steps  whatever  with  regard  to  Helen's  return 
to  England  without  definite  instructions. 

The  more  she  learned  of  the  amazing  web  of  in- 
trigue and  misunderstanding  that  surrounded  her 
movements  since  she  left  the  Embankment  Hotel  after 
that  memorable  luncheon  with  Millicent,  the  less  in- 
clined she  was  to  deny  Spenc<:r's  theory  that  Fate 
had  brought  them  together. 

"  I  cleared  out  of  Colorado  as  though  a  tarantula 
had  bitten  me,"  he  said.  "  I  traveled  five  thousand 
miles  to  London,  saw  you,  fooled  myself  into  the 
belief  that  I  was  intended  by  Providence  to  play  the 
part  of  a  heavy  uncle,  and  kept  up  that  notion  dur- 
ing another  thousand-mile  trip  to  this  delightful 
country.  Then  you  began  to  reach  out  for  me, 
Helen " 

"  I  did  nothing  of  the  kind !  "  she  protested. 

347 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

"  Oh,  yes,  you  did, — just  grabbed  me  good  and 
hard, — and  when  Bower  showed  up  I  stacked  my 
chips  on  the  table  and  sat  down  to  the  game.  What 
am  I  talking  about?  I  don't  know.  Kiss  me  good 
night,  sweetheart,  and  don't  you  give  a  red  cent 
who's  looking.  For  once  in  a  way,  I  don't  mind 
admitting  that  I'm  tired — all  in.  I  could  sleep  on 
a  row  of  porcupines." 

Stampa  was  buried  in  the  grave  that  held  his 
daughter's  remains.  Spencer  purchased  the  space 
for  a  suitable  monument,  and  the  inscription  does 
not  fail  to  record  the  fact  that  one  of  the  men 
who  first  conquered  the  Matterhorn  had  paid  trib- 
ute to  the  mountains  by  meeting  his  death  on 
Corvatsch. 

The  American  went  many  times  to  visit  Bower  at 
the  Roseg  inn.  He  found  his  erstwhile  rival  re- 
signed to  the  vagaries  of  fortune.  The  doctors 
summoned  from  St.  Moritz  deemed  his  case  so  seri- 
ous that  they  brought  a  specialist  from  Paris,  and 
the  great  suregon  announced  that  the  millionaire's 
leg  would  be  saved;  but  there  must  remain  a  per- 
manent stiffness. 

"  I  know  what  that  means,"  said  Bower,  with  a 
wry  smile.  "  It  is  a  legacy  from  Stampa.  That 
is  really  rather  funny,  considering  that  the  joke  is 
against  myself.  By  the  way,  did  I  tell  you  I  gave 
Millicent  Jaques  a  check  for  five  thousand  pounds 
to  stop  her  tongue?  " 

348 


THE  SETTLEMENT 

"  I  guessed  the  check,  but  couldn't  guess  the 
amount." 

"  She  wrote  last  week,  threatening  all  sorts  of 
terrible  things  because  I  withheld  payment.  You 
will  remember  that  when  you  and  I  placed  on  record 
our  mutual  opinion  of  each  other,  we  agreed  at  any 
rate  that  it  was  a  mean  thing  on  her  part  to  give 
away  our  poor  Helen  to  the  harpies  in  the  hotel.  So 
I  telegraphed  at  once  to  my  bankers,  and  Miss  Milli- 
cent  didn't  make  good,  as  you  would  put  it.  Now 
she  promises  to  '  expose  '  me.  Humorous,  isn't  it?  " 

"  I  think  you  ought  to  marry  her,"  said  Spencer, 
with  that  immobile  look  of  his. 

"  Perhaps  I  may,  one  of  these  days.  But  first  she 
must  learn  to  behave  herself.  A  nice  girl,  Millicent. 
She  would  look  decorative,  sitting  beside  an  invalid 
in  a  carriage.  Yes,  I'll  think  of  it.  Meanwhile,  I 
shall  chaff  her  about  the  five  thousand  and  see  how 
she  takes  it." 

Millicent  behaved.     Helen  saw  that  she  did. 

On  a  day  in  September,  after  a  wedding  that  was 
attended  by  as  many  people  as  could  be  crowded  into 
the  little  English  church  at  Maloja,  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Charles  K.  Spencer  drove  over  the  pass  and  down 
the  Vale  of  Bregaglia  en  route  to  Como,  Milan,  and 
Venice.  At  the  wedding  breakfast,  when  Mrs.  de  la 
Vere  officiated  as  hostess,  the  Rev.  Philip  Hare 
amused  the  guests  by  stating  that  he  had  taken  pains 
to  discover  what  the  initial  "  K  "  represented  in  his 
American  friend's  name. 

349 


THE  SILENT  BARRIER 

"His  second  name  is  Knox,"  said  the  vicar,  "  and 
I  understand  that  he  is  a  direct  descendant  of  a  fa- 
mous Scottish  divine  known  to  history  as  a  very 
stubborn  person.  Well,  it  has  been  said  by  a  gentle- 
man present  that  Mr.  Spencer  has  a  backbone  of  cast 
steel,  so  the  '  K  '  is  fully  accounted  for,  while  the 
singular  affinity  of  steel  of  any  variety  for  a  magnet 
gives  a  ready  explanation  of  the  admirable  union 
which  has  resulted  from  the  chance  that  brought  the 
bride  and  bridegroom  under  the  same  roof." 

Everybody  said  that  Hare  was  much  happier  on 
such  occasions  than  in  the  pulpit,  and  even  the 
Wragg  girls  were  heard  to  admit  that  Helen  looked 
positively  charming. 

So  it  is  clear  that  many  hatchets  were  blunted 
in  Maloja,  which  is  as  it  should  ever  be  in  such  a 
fairyland,  and  that  Helen,  looking  back  at  the 
mighty  chain  of  the  Alps  from  the  deck  of  a  steamer 
on  Lake  Como,  had  no  reason  to  regret  the  day 
when  first  she  crossed  that  solemn  barrier. 


THE    END 


350 


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